We Close Our Eyes
by Fionn Whelan
Summary: Formerly '2 Weddings...Funeral'. Complete! The lives of the Simpsons and friends, following 'Mr. Burns Has Risen From The Grave'. Love, Laughs, and a nearendless parade of unnecessary guest stars! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Just a few love stories, continuing along the "Bart Simpson's Vampires" universe. Just a little story, starting with a few days before Bart and Jessica's wedding, ending with Lisa and Brian's. I own no characters, except Frs. O'Flaherty and Malloy, and Brian.

A little history: Yes, I know, I didn't finish "Mr. Burns Has Risen From the Grave". I'll tell you how it goes. Maggie and Eric get kidnapped. The group finds Burns' lair, but it is abandoned when they arrive. It turns out that the traitor was Ned Flanders, who betrayed them because Burns had used technology stolen from Frink's laboratory to create a replicant of Maude, that he convinced Flanders was the real thing returned from the grave. Ned is shot by Fat Tony's henchmen. The group chases Burns to Dracula's castle in Transylvania, where, after a great battle in the courtyard, Burns is killed by Homer, Marge, and Bart, and the children are saved. Back in Springfield, Brian resigns his post as professor, and is replaced by Father Sean (from the episode "The Father, The Son, and…"). With Bart, Lisa, Jessica, Mac, and the band from the Maison Derriere, they form a band, and get Danny Elfman and 'Weird Al' to help them get a record deal. With two established performers helping them, and their album receiving plenty of airtime thanks to Bart and Jessica, they become a sensation. And now, the next year, in late May, they are having their last concert before Bart and Jessica get married.

Chapter One: A Concert

The roaring of the crowd blended with the buzzing in Jessica's ears. She felt the hands-free mic in her hanging loosely. She reached up and made sure it was in right. The glaring lights made her eyes water. She looked at Bart, sweaty and exhausted in the early-summer heat. He strummed his guitar a few times, just to use some of the energy he had built up in the last song. She saw Brian talking with Lisa. Inexplicably, they started kissing. The crowd cheered. He pulled away, pointing at her, smiling goofily. He walked over the microphone.

"Whew! Oh yeah!"

The crowd surged with noise.

"Now, we promised somethin' special for you tonight, as this is Bart and Jessica's last concert for the year. THEY'RE GETTING' MARRIED! WOOO!"

Bart ran over to where Jessica stood and grabbed her hand, raising it up. The cheering intensified. Bart lowered their hands and tried to kiss Jessica, who caught him and slapped him. They all laughed. Bart took his microphone and addressed the crowd.

"A couple'a friends stopped by to wish us their best. They'll be at the wedding next week, of course, but, as it's a private affair, we thought it best that they get to say 'hi' t'yall. So, here's one of the coolest badass rockers in the whole bloody world, Alice Cooper!"

The crowd exploded as the aged rock star walked out onto the stage. He had long been looking well past his age, with wrinkled, leathery skin and bleary eyes, and acting it, as years of living the lifestyle had thoroughly addled his brains. But there he was, Alice Cooper. Michael Burke started a medium-tempo beat while Bart blared the opening chords of 'School's Out'. Cooper took a bow. He shook all their hands, and gave his congratulations to Bart and Jessica. He took a mic and gave a shrill screech that set the crowd roaring.

"Yeah. Its great to be here. Bart, Jessica, looking great. Brian. Lisa. Mac, Burke, everybody. The face of rock an' roll today. Amazing. By the way, any jazz fans out there?"

Silence. Utter silence. One lonely hand was raised.

"Me…"

The single jazz fan was brutally beaten and then hoisted over the chain-link fence around the meadow.

"Shit. Well, I guess it's a bad time to mention Lisa and Brian's new album then?" He slurred looking to Bart. With a nod, Mac began. Bart joined, then Burke.

"I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing 'till they,

got a hold of me…

I opened doors for little old ladies, I helped the blind to see.

I got no friends 'cause they read the papers,

They can't be see…with me.

An' I'm getting' real shot-down and I'm…getting mean!"

They went out of their minds cheering. At the end of the song, it was all Kearney, Jimbo, and Nelson could do to keep the screeching fans off the stage. As soon as the song stopped, the launched right into 'Stephen'.

"Whew," Cooper said, wiping the sweat from his brow, "It is hot out here."

"Speaking of hotness," Bart piped in, " I would like to dedicate this next number to my gorgeous fiancée Jessica. And, to help us sing it, in addition to our 'steemed guest Al, we have two friends. One you may know for his work writing the soundtracks for…well, everything Tim Burton has made. The other, you may be one of your 'Idol's. Please, scream, go nuts and pull of your shirts for Danny Elfman-"

The composer/singer ran out onto the stage. He gave a fancy bow to the audience, then pulled Bart, Jessica, and Alice, who was standing close by, into a smothering hug. Cooper's arms flailed about as he struggled to break free.

"Woo! Hello Capitol City!"

"And," Jessica said, finishing for Bart, "Billy Idol!"

The rocker was already halfway across the stage. He went straight to the front, and proceeded to further agitate the crowd, sneering and punching into the air. After nearly two minutes of standing there and showboating, he was interrupted by Alice Cooper, who was accidentally punched. Elfman rushed over and made sure no one was hurt and that no rock feuds would result, and then they all took their places at the mics.

"Yeah! Its great to be here in Sacrame…….Capital…City…yeah," Idol said, squinting to read the prompter.

"Bart picked out a little song he thought Jessica would really like, and I tried to talk him out of it, as it seemed only trouble would result. But Bart's a stubborn bastard, and so, after clearing its use with Elton John, and promising to donate some money to-what was it again?" Elfman announced.

"I think it was his…his, uh, AIDS foundation. Yeah."

"Anyway, after getting all the legal crap cleared, here it is."

Brian squeaked a note on his guitar.

"This song is for Jessica No-Longer-Lovejoy: the craziest music bitch I've accidentally puked on!" Billy yelled.

Burke gave the cue, clacking his drumsticks. Brian started with an amplified banjo. Jessica recognized the opening immediately.

"Oh no. You didn't…"

"I _did_, baby," Bart replied smugly. He was clocked across the face.

Idol started:

"I was justified, when I was five,

Raisin' Cain I spit in your eye!

Times 'ave changed, an' now the pork is fat,

But the fever's gonna catch you when the bitch gets back!"

"WHOAA-O-O!"

Alice continued:

"If it on a Friday, that's alright.

Evil lights take on Saturday night,

The bitch, the bet with the social dues,

I get high in the even'n' with a box of glue!"

Alice took out what appeared to be a box of airplane glue (in reality, it was ointment) and sniffed.

"WHOAA-O-O!"

He stepped away from the mic, and Jessica took his place, joining in on the chorus. Billy Idol sang as well, pumping his fist.

"I'm a bitch! I'm bitch! Yeah the bitch is back!

Stone-cold sober, as a matter of fact.

I can bitch! I can bitch

Cause I'm better than you!

It's the way that groove, the thing that I do!"

"WHOAA-O-O!"

Lisa took her saxophone and blared away.

"I'm entertained by picking brains,

Sell my soul by dropping nines,

I've cut my nose,

Good God what's that!"

Elfman came in:

"Oh, its from the _nasty habits_ when the bitch gets back!"

"WHOAA-O-O!"

The three guest singers did a repeat of the chorus together.

Lisa started again on her sax. She walked, playing, to the front of the stage, and played a two-and-a-half minute solo. Exhausted, she ran back while Elfman, Idol, Cooper, and Jessica sang a repeat of the first verse and chorus. Rather than finish the normal way, Brian signaled and let Lisa have another solo.

Lisa didn't know what to think of the gesture. She though him probably trying to compensate for the fact she provided little more than backup for their group, if she played at all, while he and Bart hogged the front stage. Jessica got a lot of attention too, but she didn't play anything and could hardly sing. She was distracting eyecandy with minimal talent, like Jessica Simpson. But underlying was the bigger issue: Lisa was a jazz girl. She loved the brassy horns, the swinging beat, racial themes, and the political correctness. It was a non-caucasian, and hence, more valuable, form of art. But Brian loved the rock. He loved the wild, carnival atmosphere. He loved telling people off. He loved the quick tempos and the slow ones, the fast songs and the eight-minute ballads. He also, sadly, loved the lifestyle, and while he had refrained from the illegal drugs, he did have a dangerous love of liqueur, especially Irish whiskey. He hardly ever smoked, in fact, smokers aggravated him, almost as much as those who tried to ban smoking. He seemed a dangerous explosive, burning his short fuse faster and faster.

She finished her solo, one of her best improvisations. She quickly wiped a tear out of her eye. She sometimes started crying while playing. Sometimes, she wasn't even sad. She just started crying.

"Woo! Alright!" Idol screeched.

"We have another song, one for all you guys. This was one Brian asked me to do a while ago, and its for every antisocial jerkoff out there."

Lisa looked at Brian. His vaguely spiked hair was a mess. He had his bass guitar ready. _Bet it's 'On the Outside'_.

"'On the Outside', guys, oke-doke?" Elfman called back over his shoulder.

Bart lead with the opening riffs. Lisa added her sax to the blaring horns. Elfman sang the first verse. She opened one eye to look at Brian. He looked so distant, staring out over the crowd and off into the distance, at the violet horizon. He looked up as Elfman gestured to him. He was letting him sing the next verse. Lisa liked seeing him sing. It was good for him, cathartic.

"I never was a punk, I never shot junk,

I never even tried,

Counter-culture passed me right by!"

"-I'm on the outside!"

"Don't talk to debutantes, don't eat in restaurants,

the patrons sit and stare,

the waiters make wise cracks behind my back!"

He threw Lisa a meaningful look. She understood.

"-I'm on the outside!"

"The teachers stare in school, they flunk me by the rule,

they said I had no motivation,

brains,

or dedication.

I guess the imbeciles were right."

"I'm on the outside!" Brian sang.

"I'm on the outside!" she replied.

They all came in "I'm on the outside-!"

"This is where it all begins!" they all sang, with Bart, Jess, and their three guests waving their arms in time. The audience copied.

"On the outside looking in. Get in.

I do.

I'm just an alien through an' through,

Trying to make believe I'm you-hoo-hoo,

Tryin' ta fit.

Just a stranger on the outside looking in!"

Lisa was permitted a brief solo.

"Disco makes me sick," Alice sang. "I where the wrong clothes;

I say the wrong things…"

"YouknowIcantdancemyfeetarmuchtoowide!" Idol sang, dancing on the spot.

"You think you set the trends,

You where yer hair ju' right,

Your house is modern, really kitschy, yet so macho when ya whip yer bitch!" Bart sang.

"I see them go to work,

I seem them go to sleep,

I seem them on TV,

I see them laugh an' clap,

I'm on the outside, I'm on the outsi—de, now!"

The audience cheered.

They played about five more songs together, and then Idol and Cooper had to leave. They played 'Stay' (the Jackson Browne version). After they left, they had a little chat with Elfman, there on stage. He told them how great it was to see them, and how he'd be at the wedding. He then asked about Brian and Lisa, how they were doing, and when they planned on tying the knot. He said high to Mac, and to Burke, who announced that he was seeing a French-Basque girl named Christine. Elfman chuckled heartily, and made a few embarrassing French jokes. When corrected that she was French-_Basque_, thus, a type of _Basque_, Elfman made a sheep joke. The audience laughed. They played 'Wild Sex (In The Working Class)' and finished with 'It Only Makes Me Laugh'. Then Elfman said his goodbyes.

They played about eight or so more songs, went offstage, them came back and did two encores. After that, they clobbered their way past the paparazzi and were rushed into their limos by Kearney, Nelson, and Jimbo.

"Whew," Bart gasped. He was slouching in his seat, arm around Jessica, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Jessica slapped it out of his mouth.

"Bart! You said you'd quit!"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry babe."

"So, where to now, buddy?" the 'Wiseguy'-voiced limo driver asked.

"Let's go somewhere!" Jessica said.

"Yeah! Where're the good clubs in town?" Mac asked.

"Eh, I'm beat," Brian sighed, "All I want is a nice shower and to go to sleep."

"Lis'? You in?"

"Naw. I think I'm gonna go back to the hotel with Brian."

Jessica, being a girl and, thus, aware of people's behaviour, saw the way Lisa was leaning in to Brian, how her fingers were just barely resting on his hand. Of course, it was obvious to anyone that Jessica and Bart were a couple, the way they sat so close, the way they touched without hesitation. It was apparent 'the wall' had long been torn down between them. But there was a tension apparent, between the two innocents in the car, between the Catholic Philosophy teacher turned singer/songwriter, and his twenty-three-years-old former pupil. What Jessica did not see was the fact that Brian felt Lisa's eyes upon him, and felt all the concern and longing that weighed within her heart. _But Lisa knew_.


	2. Love

Love

Brian fumbled with the keys. _He's so distracted…so sad_. He opened the door.

"Can I come in?" she interjected. She thought how awkward, how forced it sounded.

"Sure." He didn't look at here. He slowly turned, but didn't look at her. He flailed out a tired gesture. She walked in. He closed the door behind them both.

She looked around, then turned to him. His gray-blue eyes were brimming with sorrow.

"What's wrong?" she asked. It was a sincere question, one of the most sincere uses of the tired expression she had ever spoken.

"Tired…tha's all."

She shook her head.

"You know that's not it. Tell me. Are you…_sad_, again?"

He winced and bared his teeth slightly. He let out a hissing breathe; his self control deflating. He shook his head.

"I…I know I have no reason. I…"

"Shh. Brian. No one understands. I know. But I do. Please, if all I have is you, what good are you if you close yourself away? If I'm the only one who understands then let me in, don't shut me out!"

She opened her arms. He repressed a sob. She held him, and he rested his head on hers, his hand twirling a lock of the hair on the back of her head.

"I just…whenever I'm at a concert, or a carnival or party even, I just…all the people, bouncing around in that great sea of humanity…It just reminds me of how alone I am."

He looked into her blue-blue-blue eyes. The understanding was without words. She _had _felt that way. But no more. And he needn't feel so lonely anymore. She half-puckered, then stopped. _He doesn't like kissing_, she reminded herself.

"No," he answered. He leaned in. They kissed. He started, fast, but slowed, and they reached a slow tempo. They broke away slowly, simultaneously. She let out a contented sigh. He grimaced and looked to the side.

"Shall I stay with you tonight?" It was a question she would have never asked of him when he was her teacher. It would have been beyond inappropriate, scandalous. Even after that Autumn, when he quit his post and began working on putting a band together, it still would have felt wrong. But now they both knew it an appropriate question. They were both too far drawn into each other.

Objections flew about his mind. _Its an occasion of sin, if not a venial sin…giving cause for scandal…leading to the fall of another…betraying your quest to save her…_ And then another voice came in. _Since when was it your mission to save this thing? She's beyond help. You know it. If she won't let Him in, then He won't go in; The Enemy is like that, you see. He's claims to want to save you pitiful humans, but doesn't even give half an effort. _Then another voice, shrill, accusatory. _Like you have any right to worry about her! Look at you! Having an affair with a student! A girl five years younger than you! And does she even suspect what you've done? Those long, lonely nights…_

"Shutup! Shutup! Shutup! You don't own me! I am master of my fate! You don't own me any more!"

"Brian!"

He found himself on the ground, hands over his ears.

"Brian…?"

"Don't leave me…"

She knelt down and cradled him.

"Why, Lisa…why?"

"Shhh…"

They stood up together, clinging to each other, kissing desperately.

That night, they lay side by side, holding the other like frightened children. They did nothing, said nothing. Lisa remembered how once, as a child, she had a horrible nightmare about a terrible monster under her bed. She had run, crying, to her parents' room, and they let her sleep with them. She remembered how she still felt afraid that the monster would return, and how she clung to her father's back. _Now I'm the one comforting. And he's still afraid. Just like me, the monsters are only in his head! _She looked at him. He was sleeping, his breathes rattling in his lungs. She pulled her head up, and felt a slight twinge of pain. She untwisted his fingers from a lock of her hair. She smiled and shook her head. She got up and brushed the creases from her shirt. She was still in the clothes she had worn at the concert. So was he. Looked at his face again. She frowned. He looked so old. He looked so tired. She went to the bathroom.

She undressed absent-mindedly. She ran a warm bath while she read through one of the songs she had written, and then checked the accompaniment Brian had written for it. She threw it all aside, the papers sticking slightly to the steam-dampened floor. She went and stuck one toe into the waters, testing it. It was just right. She slid slowly in. she let out a long sigh. It was a bit of an indulgence, yes, but a simple, honest one. She just felt the warmth permeating her, soaking into her flesh, slowly untying the knots. She sang "For A Dancer" by Jackson Browne.

"…Until the dance becomes your very own,

no matter how close to yours

another steps, you have grown,

in the end there is one dance you'll do alone…"


	3. Planning

Planning

"Okay, the wedding dress is…"

"Green. Jade green."

"Okay."

"It brings out your eyes," Brian added.

Jessica smiled.

"Hey Homer! Do you guys have anything other than Duff?"

"Nope. Duff's 'Nuff! Can't get enough of that sweet, sweet Duff!"

"Stop rattling off those marketing slogans! What were you looking for, dear?" Marge asked Brian.

"Oh, you know, Guiness, Harper…never mind. I have my flask of potein." He took out a silver flask and had swig of the harsh potato liqueur. "Ack!" He started rolling on the floor, flailing and rolling like a dieing cockroach.

"Maybe you should cut that, with water or ice…or vodka even." Jessica suggested.

"Ah! Ack! Cough ! Good…I…dea. Blech!"

"Oh don't be such a baby!" Bart growled. "Gimmethat!" He took a swig. "See, no…" he started. He fell over, unconscious.

"I've never been more ashamed, and that's saying something. Here, let me show ya how to drink!" said Homer to his comatose son. He took several gulps. "Now who—oops." He went out like a light.

Marge sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll get the smelling salts and the brandy." She left the room with a vaguely displeased murmur.

"I'm so excited!" Lisa said.

"Which caterer are you using?" Eric asked, his distinct, raspy voice snagging their attention.

"I got Luigi to provide a pretty good spread. Chicken, seafood, pasta, salad, spumoni, the whole shmeal. And all for no charge."

"Wow, how'd you manage that?" Maggie asked.

"My old friend Fat Tony helped me."

_Several Weeks Earlier_

Fat Tony was on the pier with Legs and Louie, who are holding Luigi over the water by his legs.

"So it is agreed? You shall provide the caterin' for my friend's wedding at no cost whatsoever, and cover the cleanup as well?"

"Yes! A-Yes-a. I do it a-pro bono! Now a-please-a. I-a start-a to lose-a consciousness!"

_Back at the kitchen_.

Homer, Bart, and Brianwere conscious once more.

"Now, the reception will be in the Irish Legion Hall right across from St. Andrew's."

"Hrmmmm…seems a little bit of a stretch for us…I mean, not being Catholic, well, sorta," Marge said, looking from Bart to Homer to Jessica. Bart, she had long ago discovered, had re-converted, while Homer's conversion had somehow slipped past her. Jessica. She became agnostic in high school, and had remained so for years, eventually becoming completely atheist. Only the events of the previous Autumn were able to force her to accept the existence of God, as she had seen with her own eyes the proof of the existence of the Devil. And with Catholic priests and laity having the upper hand in such supernatural encounters, she became Catholic as it was the only thing that made sense. _Plus_, Marge thought, _she probably thought how much it would have angered her father_.

"I don't know. I mean, we aren't Irish!"

"Marge, its not exclusively for the Irish. It was just built by and for them-_originally_. Now its an all-purpose meeting place. We went to the food fair there! Plus, as by-proxy parishioners, its free! Free I tells ya!"

"Well, I guess. I can't argue with 'free', especially with all the floor space.

"Are aunts Patty and Selma coming?" Eric asked. Though few could really love the 'gruesome twosome', and fewer were able to show it, Eric came closest. His aunts loved him, as he was the still the 'baby' of the family and the Simpsons child who exhibited the most of his mother and the least of his father.

"Well, Aunt Patty and Uncle Artie, maybe. Patty, well, I don't know," Bart said.

"Brian, did you apologize to her yet?" Jessica asked.

"Even if I did, I doubt she'd accept my apology. No, and I don't plan to."

"What happened? What'd he say?" Marge asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just, you know, come on to strong, and state my beliefs with little provocation and even less concern for the feelings or opinions of those to whom I'm speaking."

Lisa chuckled nervously. "Yeah. That's our Brian."

"What did you say?"

"I was discussing the matter of gay marriage, and your sister got mad at me for what I was saying, and I was very cordial about it all, engaging her as diplomatically and politely as I could. She told me that she was a lesbian, and asked if I believed she was thus damned to hell, to which I replied 'No'. Then I told her that I pitied her and that I would pray for her. She got rather aggressive and called me a few nasty names, and I offered her a pamphlet for a psychologist whose speciality is sexual identity and the rehabilitation of homosexuals and other deviants, and she hauled off and hit me. Then her sister poured her drink on my head, and burned me with her fag. It hurt like hell. But I was most upset by her not seeing the need for any help."

"Heh-heh. Like she could get a man if she wanted to!"

"Homer! Brian, I know your beliefs, and really, I was shocked too when she came out, but you can't change the way God made her!"

"God makes no one inclined to evil. Homosexuality is not a natural state; that is merely what homosexuals and social reconstructionists say-respectively, to validate their pursuit of perverse and self-destructive behaviours and to further their goal of a hedonistic, secular-humanist culture. Homosexuality is routed in emotional/psychic trauma, sexual confusion, and misconceptions of healthy gender identity."

"I-!"

"Let me finish, Mrs. Simpson! From what I hear, your family was not entirely functional. Your mother was domineering, moody, and puritanical; your father was weak-willed, effeminate, and worked as a male airline steward. The two argued constantly, when they weren't pretending the other didn't exist. Later, when you and your sisters were in their teens and they were still dealing with the shock of you dumping debate team captain and valedictorian Artie Ziff and going instead with a fat, smelly, unintelligent, futureless-"

"Hey!"

"The truth hurts, Dad."

"I'll hurt you!"

"-2.5 GPA Homer, your father was killed by a giant ape. This was the final nail sealing the casket of Patty's view of men. Already, she saw men as weak and whiny. Already, she had gone through high school, rejected by most of the other girls because of their looks and smell of tabacco, with low grades, lower expectations in life, and a very negative view of life. As an identical twin, she had bonded with Selma since birth. As the older and more proactive twin, she found it her duty to protect her sister. All her high school life she had to defend Selma from boys who thought they could get her because she was ugly and unpopular, thus, 'easy'. She saw you, one of the best examples of a "normal" heterosexual woman she's ever known, choose a man she saw as absolutely repugnant over a man with what she and her sister saw as better looks and better potential. She saw you become pregnant by that same man, out of wedlock, and seemingly become locked in a state of squalor and destruction by him. She saw her sister rejected and abused by men, while she was overlooked completely. Naturally, she decided to become a lesbian."

Marge was shocked and silent. Everyone, Eric, Lisa, Maggie, Jessica, Homer, Bart (who was still being strangled by Homer), stared at Brian, who stood there breathless and red faced.

"I'm sorry."

Silence.

"I see you've spent some time analysing the matter…" Marge said eventually.

"Actually, it was all extemporaneous. I'm sorry. I've insulted you, your husband, and your family. I have violated your friendship and sacred hospitality. I will leave. I will understand if you never want to see me in your house again. Bart, Jessica, I hope you have a good wedding and a happy life together. If you want your aunt Patty to show, please call her and tell her she needn't worry about confronting me." He left the room. They heard the door shut.

Lisa looked around, as if snapping out of a daze, and ran out after him. She heard the clip-clop of his horse's hooves upon the pavement. She ran out of the house, leaving the door open.

"Wait!"

Brian slowed his horse and turned. He tugged at the reins and turned the horse about, and then walked it back.

"I'm sorry Lisa. I should have never spoken."

"Brian, please. You're being melodramatic."

He smiled nervously, then dismounted.

"But I must say, you were pretty rude and confrontational."

"_Blunt,_ acushla mea, I'm candid and blunt."

"I still think you should come back in and apologize, and apologize to Aunt Patty too."

"Yes…I think that I should." he said frowning. He took the horse by the reins and Lisa lead them into the back yard. He unharnessed the horse and removed the saddle, and led it run about. He went with Lisa back into the kitchen through the back door.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Simpson."

"Its alright Brian. I… its just that-"

"No, I behaved horribly. I was inflammatory, impolite, and divisive. I caused unneeded division, and that which causes division and strife is of the Devil. God wants to unify his people in love and understanding; Satan wants man divided by anger, fear, and hatred. I apologize for anything my heartless, proud, and possibly faulty analysis of your family's dynamics and your sister's sexual psychology may have caused. I did not intend to attack your love for Homer, a good an decent man, or your rejection of Artie, or your feelings for your family. All you have done happened and could not have happened any other way. Providence has been kind to you, bringing you and Homer together, blessing you with four wonderful, intell-…wonderful children, one of whom is now engaged to marry a beautiful, talented woman. This should be a happy time, a time for joy and unity. I meant not to destroy and divide. I apologize once more, and, if I may borrow someone's car, I will go straight to Ms. Bouvier's and apologize in person. Bart, can I borrow the roadster?"

Bart tossed him the keys.

"Fill it up while you're. Premium."

"Right-o. Lisa, are you coming along?"

"Oh? Alright."

_The Bouvier Twins' Apartment…_

"Ms. Bouvier, I am terribly sorry. I was rude, insensitive, and thoughtless. I did not mean to offend you or to judge you for the choices you have made as a mature and independent adult."

"Well, that'd mean a lot to mean, but I ain't Ms. Bouvier. I'm Mrs. Terwilliger Hutz McClure Disco Stu-aw, screw it, I'm Selma Ziff. Patty's inside."

"May I please see her? I need to speak with her."

"Fine. She's watching 'The L-Word'."

Brian shuddered visibly. Selma opened the door and he walked in. Lisa stopped and said, "Thanks a bunch Aunt Selma."

"Ehh."

Brian found Patty on the couch.

"You! What'er you doint here?"

"Patty, he's here to apologize."

"Yes, Ms. Bouvier, to repeat what I said ten seconds ago, I am terribly sorry. I was rude, insensitive, and thoughtless. I did not mean to offend you or to judge you for the choices you made as a mature and independent adult."

"Well…meh. I accept, I guess."

"Thank you, Ms. Bouvier. As one who would be part of your family, it means very much to Lisa and I that there be no hostility or sour grapes among us."

"Huh?"

"What's this?"

"Well, it, you know, isn't official or anything, but Brian and I have really been thinking about…"

Patty opened her mouth and slapped her cheek. Selma dropped her cigarette.

"Oh…my…God…!"

"Oh Lisa! This is wonderful!"

"Well, we aren't really even engaged, but we're engaged to be engaged."

"I've been looking for good rings, thinking up ways to propose, where to ask her, talking about her ideal wedding, that sorta stuff."

"Oh, isn't that sweet."

"But don't tell anyone, its supposed to be secret."

"We want to announce it after the excitement from Bart and Jessica's wedding dies down."

"Well, let me be the first to congratulate you two."

"And let me have the honour of being second. Brian, I accept your apology. It takes courage to admit you're wrong."

"Oh, I never said that," he answered, but quickly and deliberately quiet.

"Huh?" she grunted.

"He said he's very happy that you forgave him and hopes to see you at the wedding next week."

"Urk!" he grunted as she squeezed his hand and stepped on his toes.

"Well, haha, must be going. Bye, love you!" she rambled as she drug Brian out of the room, slamming the door behind them.


	4. Guest List

Guest List

Jessica sat at the kitchen table. It was late, after midnight. Her eyes were tired, but she forced herself on. Lisa came in.

"Hey Lis'," Jessica said, looking up just a moment.

"Everyone RSVP already?"

"Well...yeah. Mostly."

Bart staggered in, eyes bleary.

"What's the matter with you girls? Its one a.m.!"

"Oh, I was just checking the guest list again."

Lisa leaned in to check.

Homer and Marge Simpson: Yes

Lisa Simpson: Yes

Maggie and Eric Simpson: Yes

Grandpa Simpson: "Sure thing. Ah, I remember when I got married. It was back in the forties, and the Russkies hadn't conquered us yet. I remember Dwight David Eisenhower came, and he gave the eulogy. Then we buried old Sparky underneath the old oak tree, and went home for cake and ice cream. It was the best Christmas I ever had. And another thing...ZZZZzzzzz."

Grandma Jacqueline Bouvier: Yes

Artie Ziff and Selma Bouvier-Ziff: Yes

Patty Bouvier: Yes

Millhouse Van Houten: Yes

Jasper: Huh? What about the bedding?

Crazy Old Jewish Man: "Huh? What? What are you talking about? You trying to sell me something?"

Rev. Jim Lovejoy: No reply.

Helen Lovejoy: No reply, presumed dead

Brian Aquinas Callahan: Yes

Gavin "Mac" Macintosh: Yes

Steve Cho: Yes

Michael Burke and guest: Yes

William 'Will' Dejong: Unable to attend (death in the family)

Mr & Mrs DeGeorge: Grudgingly yes

Felicia DeGeorge: Yes

Nelson Muntz, Sherri Muntz, Terri Muntz, and children: Yes

Jimbo Jones: Yes

Kearny (No Last Name Listed): Yes

Dolph: Unable to attend, sends best wishes

Oliver: Yes

Martin Prince: Yes

John and Enid Frink: "We'll be there, by glavin."

Maximillian Frink: Unable to attend

Wendel: Unable to attend; hospitalised for gastrointestinal surgery

Otto: Yes, but will not be responsible for loss of cleaning deposit

Seymour Skinner and Edna Krabbappel-Skinner: Yes

William "Groundskeeper Willie" McGovern and Jessica McGovern: Aye

Seamus Patrick Fitzpatrick: Yes (note: restraining order requires thirty feet between him and Willie at all times)

Herschel Smoikel Krustofski: Yes

Mel and Barbara: Yes

Robert Underdunk Terwilliger: Unable to attend (whereabouts unknown)

Father Patrick Molloy: Yes

Father Sean Maloney: Yes

Ruth Powers, Laura Powers: Unable to attend (incarcerated), Yes.

Akira Serizawa and family: Yes

Apu and Manjula Nahasapimapetilon, and children: Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes

Sanjay and Isha Nahasapimapetilon and daughter: Unable to attend

Comic Book Guy: "Yes, I plan on being present."

Disco Stu: "Disco Stu will be there!"

Fat Tony…and associates: Yes

Clancy Wiggum, Nancy Wiggum, and Ralph Wiggum: Yes

Moe Syzlak: Yes

Barney Gumble: Unable to attend, in detox

Lenny and Carl: Yes

Charlie (from power plant): Unable to attend, still stranded in Middle East

Vincent Furnier (a.k.a. Alice Cooper): Yes

Danny Elfman: Yes

Billy Idol: "Sorry, got a gig. Good luck an' all tha'."

Alfred 'Weird Al' Yankovic: "YES!"

"Quite a list."

"Well, its not much. Just family and friends."

"Most of them said they're coming."

"Yeah, well, that's good. I'd really miss any one of them."

"Bart, I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah, I'm happy for me too."

"Well, just four more days."

"Aye carumba."

Lisa smiled.

"Bet you wish you had a catchphrase. Hah, Ha hah-ha!"

"Hrmmmm…."

"That's mom's!"

"Ha-Ha!"

"Get back to your common law wives!" she shouted at Nelson, who was leaning in through the open window..

"Heh…got me there."


	5. Two Parties

Two Parties

Marge hurried about frantically. _Let's see, I vacuumed the carpets, washed the rugs, swept, mopped, waxed the floor, cleared away the clutter, washed the dishes, got all the handprints off the walls, made the reservations…!_

"I knew I forgot something!" she screamed. She ran over to the wall facing the front door. A fist-sized hole was there. She looked at it, tilting her head this way and that.

"Hrmmm…I know!" She ran off and returned with a framed needlework that read 'Home, Sweet Home'. "Perfect!"

Homer and Bart came bounding down the stairs, their evening coats over their shoulders.

"Bye Mom."

"Oh! Bye! You behave now."

"Don't worry Marge, I'll keep an eye on him," said Homer as Marge rushed to kiss him good-bye.

Brian and Lisa emerged from the living room.

"Are we leaving now?"

"Yup. In the car!" Homer said with a gesture.

"Bye Lisa," Brian said, giving her a quick kiss on each cheek.

"You behave."

"You too."

"C'mon, I'm the Voice of Reason in this family! If anyone can ruin a bachelorette-"

"Shower, Lisa," Marge said, visibly angry, "It's a bridal shower, not some…bawdy bachelorette party."

"Well, you keep an eye on things." He said, shaking a finger half-jokingly. "Lisa. Mrs. Simpson." He donned his tweed cap. "Have fun. We'll be back sometime before dawn."

He shut the door. They heard the revving of a car engine and the squeaking of tires.

"I hope they don't do anything too crazy."

"Don't worry, between Brian and Skinner, things should be fairly subdued."

"Okay," she checked her watch, "Still plenty of time to prepare. Lisa, you make sure the grout is clean. Jessica, go comb the carpets. Hurry! They'll be here any minute.

Two hours later… 

Ding!

"Oh they're here!" Marge gasped as she hurried over to the door. Edna Krabbappel-Skinner and Mrs. Hibbert were at the door.

"Edna! Sharon! Come on in."

"Hi Marge."

"Good evening Marge."

"Hey guys!" Lisa said.

"Hello Lisa. How's my favourite college drop-out?"

"Contented and financially secure."

"Hmm. Good."

Jessica came in. She was wearing a simple black dress with a jade necklace and matching earrings.

"Oh look at you!" Sharon Hibbert said. She handed her gift to Lisa and went over to hug Jessica. Edna plopped her gift on top of Sharon's and went over to say high to Jessica.

"Lisa, just put those over in the living room."

She rolled her eyes and carried the gifts off. She recalled Brian's Litany of Humility. _I must remove myself from me. God before all, all before me. Well, this is Jessica's party. I guess its only natural I get relegated to taking coats and presents. _She the presents down on the coffee table.

"So what's the plan for the evening?"

"Well, we're going out to a nice dinner at the Pimento Grove, then coming back here for coffee and presents, and maybe some games or something."

"So, its strictly a PG-13 affair then," Edna said, "Nothing wild or crazy?"

"No, just good clean fun."

"Hmm…" she replied as she lit a cigarette.

"I wonder what the boys are doing…" Marge said.

At Moe's… 

Brian looked around the dark, dank hole of a bar. To call it a cesspool would be flattering the place.

"More Duff, Professor?" Moe asked.

"Nah. Do you have anything else? Maybe a Guinness or a Harper?"

"Guinness, eh? Let me check the import fridge." He bent over and blew the dust off the padlock on the small refrigerator. After spinning the dial, he opened it up and checked.

"Let's see…some Kirin, Corona, Red Tick, ah, here we's are. Guinness." He took out the bottle, popped off the top, and handed it to Brian. "That'll be five bucks."

"You're mad! For one bottle of beer?"

"Hey, it's imported! My hands are tied!"

"Okay, here. Bastard."

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

He sipped the nearly-expired beer and looked around. Everyone was hunched over their mugs. The ceiling fans wobbled and wiggled, seemingly churning the muckiness in the air.

"Look, this party has died and gone to hell. We need pump some life into this scene." Bart said.

"Son, you don't understand! This is Moe's! This is part of the Springfield experience!"

"This sucks. All in favour of ditchin' this stink hole and whoopin' it up somewhere else…?"

Everyone except Moe raised their hands.

"Okay, okay. But who's gonna pick up the tab?"

"Homer!" they all yelled.

"D'oh!"

They headed off.

"So, where to now?" Lenny asked.

"How 'bout Shooter's?" Mac suggested.

"Nah, it's always too crowded." Carl answered.

"The Black Box?"

"Too exclusive." Carl said.

"The Hate Box?"

"Too noisy!" Lenny answered.

"The Martini Place?" Mel offered.

"Too fancy."

"Guys! Guys! Guys!" Bart called. "There's only one place one need go for fun, folly, and drunkenness! It's-!"

"Oh no!" Brian said, "Not there!"

At the Pimento Grove… 

The girls sat together at one long table in the back party room. Virtually every woman in Springfield was there: Lindsay Naegle, Kookie Kwan, Ruth Powers, Laura Powers, Edna Krabbappel-Skinner, Dr. Zweig, Evelyn Peters, Judge Harm, Mrs. Glick, Sharon Hibbert, Agnes Skinner, Patty and Selma, Sherri and Terri, Manjula, Alex Whitney, Allison Taylor, Celeste, Jamie, Marge, Lisa, and, of course, Jessica, the woman of the moment. They were all laughing and drinking and enjoying their meals.

"And so then, she walks into the living room, naked, and they turn on the lights and scream 'Surprise!'"

"Ha Ha Ha!"

"Well, I'd like to thank you all for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, doll!" Lindsay said.

"I'm just glad to get out of the house. I tell you Jessica, be careful you don't end up like me, a bored and desperate housewife!"

"Desperate for what? Skinner not enough for ya?"

"Ha! Very funny."

"Well, after our honeymoon in London, Bart and I are going back to work recording. We're working on a new album, probably out around July, and then one album for Halloween and one for Christmas."

"Man, Kookie wishes she had musical talent."

"I always wanted to be rock star. How did you do it?"

"Well, I couldn't have done any of it without Bart. He's just got this energy, he works the crowds like crazy, and he doesn't put up with any of the crap the agents and record company people give us."

"Don't forget Lisa!" Marge added.

Jessica rolled her eyes.

"And, of course, how could it have all worked out without Lisa and Brian writing our songs and managing the money matters."

Lisa smiled and sighed. _Just smile, laugh at the jokes. Pretend to belong. I don't, though. _She sighed, and wondered how her Brian was.

The Maison Derriere… 

"Bart! Good to see you!"

"Hey Belle. Like the way you've fixed the place up."

"Well, it's just lucky that I decided to get that Armed Mob Insurance. After the time your mom drove a bulldozer into the left wing, I couldn't afford another disaster." She looked at them.

"Special occasion, hon?"

"Bachelor party," Homer replied.

"Well, I'll see to it that it's the best you'll ever attend. Follow me darling." She led them down the hall and through the red curtain to the main dining room.

"Alright gents, beat it! I got a private party here. Go somewhere else for your booze and soft-core pornographic entertainment!"

Grumbling, the patrons left. The busboys cleared the tables and moved them all together in front of the stage.

They all ordered drinks and steaks, and had a grand old time, getting thoroughly tipsy and full. The lights lowered, and a single spotlight shone upon the red velvet curtains. They parted, revealing a dark female silhouette. The lights came on, revealing a woman, nude but for the large fans she had over her privates. The music started, and she began to dance.

Brian rolled his eyes and looked away. While the others hooted and howled, he kept looking off into space. He put out his cigarette, nearly gone, and lit another. He groped for his glass, not wanting to look and accidentally catch something. He had not want wanted to come, having even tried to convince the party to go elsewhere, but Bart's loyalty to old Belle and the insistence of the party on good booze, good food, and better entertainment overrode his moral objections. _O well. Fr. O'Flaherty'll probably make both go to Confession before he'll marry them. He's serious about the Sacraments. He even had the gall to refuse Fat Tony the Eucharist because he knew that he had a man killed the night before._ He drained his glass. He looked around the room. One of the busty blonde waitresses saw him and came over.

" 'nother drink, sir?" she asked in a bubbling, girlish voice.

"Yes. Scotch on the rocks."

"Okay. Hee hee hee!" she giggled.

She took his glass and took it over to the bartender. She brought it back and set it on the table.

"Thanks," he said distantly.

"No problem. Hee hee!"

He rolled his eyes and took a sip. He sat and sipped. The music faded out, signalling the end of the performance. He heard the clanging of thrown coins of the wooden stage. Next, came a Cancan dance. He afforded a glance. He smirked. The girls were all in a line, kicking like crazy, their panties showing with each kick. _Be glad, at least we aren't at a real strip joint. That would be a mortal sin._ He sighed. This was certainly a venial sin, at the very least. Women were being reduced to objects for men to lust after, and were performing in a way that incited impure desire and impure thoughts. _Watch the dances, appreciate their skill and beauty, tip well, and think of Lisa._ He was saddened at the thought of Lisa. Her strict feminism, even if it had been dampened by her half-hearted conversion (_more a conversion of inconvenience, really_, he thought), would still surely have been offended by this shameful display. He watched the dance, by wasn't nearly taken in. He thought of Lisa. His love was enough to bar any fantasy, no matter how chaste or noble, involving the buxom dancers on the stage.

At the Simpsons' home… 

"Let's see, this one is from Edna."

"Ooh, hurry and open it!"

Jessica tore the wrapping from the small box, and opened it. The room burst out in laughter. It was a pair of 'edible underwear'. Lisa rolled her eyes. _Lingerie, edible panties…why? If he doesn't want her for herself, then what can she add? Cheap, cheap tricks. _She thought of Brian. He never ceased to shower her with praise. Normally, constant flattery from a man meant that he wanted something, most often, to get into her knickers. But Brian had never pressured her. He was a gentleman. The though made her smile. Then she remembered where she was and looked at Jessica opening another gift. It was Alex Whitney's.

"'Pretension', by Calvin Kline. Thank you."

"No prob, girlfriend. Say, can you get me in on the action at the MTV Awards?"

"If I can, sure. Anyone, you want to go to the Emmys, or the Oscars, or meet Billy Idol, just ask."

Laughter and gossip.

_Brian…he's had more opportunities than anyone I've afforded it to. He never took a single one, even when I tried._ The thought worried her. A healthy, heterosexual male, one who so often told her of his love, not taking the opportunity when offered? Worries plagued her. _Is it a physical problem? Perhaps. Doubtful, though. He's healthy, in all other aspects. Maybe he's secretly gay? Hrrmmm…he is very homophobic. Maybe too much_. _But he's looked at girls though. I even caught him looking at Jessica. And it could just as easily be his radicalism. Hang-ups? Abuse? Gods! Are they all this complex? Well, maybe. None are anything like him, though._

"Jess, this is Lisa's."

"What is it?"

"You'll see."

"I hope you like it," she said with an earnest smile. Jessica opened the box. It was a glittering bracelet, a thin, wispy spiral of platinum wires and tiny diamonds. It looked like the sparkling arm the Milky Way.

"Lis, this is gorgeous…"

"Ooh, that very nice!" Kookie

"Where did you by such an exquisite specimen?" asked Evelyn.

"I had it custom made by Daniel Epstein, the jeweller down in Ethnic Town. Brian designed it."

"Well its beautiful," said Selma.

"Thank you, Lisa. I love it! I'm going to wear this on my wedding day."

Lisa was glad. It cost sixty-five thousand dollars. Brian called it "Our first celebrity exorbitance". It was a justified expense. Lisa thought of how her mother always told her that it was not the gift that mattered, but the thought. But that gift was an expression of the thought. It expressed the sincere love she had for Jessica, who would soon be her sister, and her wish that she simply have the happiest life she could. It said what words could not, that she really loved Jessica, both as a friend and as someone who was loved by someone _she_ loved-Bart. She thought Jessica beautiful, and funny, and tragic. She was a beautiful, wonderful, ridiculously lucky idiot. A beautiful, marvellous idiot. She had never been loved by anyone before Bart. She was all at once worldly and naïve. Lisa envied, pitied, hated, and loved her. It didn't matter if Jessica understood all that the bracelet meant. Lisa had said it.

Back at Moe's… 

After a night of entertainment and eating, the group returned to Moe's for a few more beers before Otto came by in the bus to take them all home. Homer was thoroughly drunk, and was talking loudly to Bart about being a husband and a father. In a touching moment, he presented Bart with the two piggy cufflinks he wore on his wedding day. Bart almost starting crying, and everyone "Awww"-ed. Brian was sleepy-drunk. The entire world was a warm, glowing haze. He stood up. The world was bleary, and wobbly. He staggered to the bathroom. As he came out of the restroom, Millhouse was standing there.

"Hey, Brian."

"Hey," he answered. His head was throbbing.

"So, I hear…I hear you and Lisa are…a thing."

"Yes."

"Really?"

"I…love…Lisa." Brian stammered, swaying like a sapling in a tornado. Even drunk, he could detect the aggressiveness in Millhouse's voice, and see it in the way he stood. _He's drunk…but so am I. If he wants to fight, I won't be able to talk him out of it._

"Lisa…is the most…beautiful woman…I ever shawww-"

"I saw her first."

Brian blinked. The world sloshed about.

"What? What'er'you tal-"

"I've wanted her since fourth grade! And here you come along, all 'Mr. Nice-an-Sensitive-and-Artsy", and you get her like that! Huh!" he yelled, shoving Brian. Brian stepped back, barely keeping his balance. "Huh? I'm nice, I'm sensitive! I'm in touch with my feminine side! What's it you do I can't!"

"First off…if ya got a feminine side…then you ain't all man. Second-"

Millhouse clocked him in the jaw. Brian fell over, catching himself on his hands.

"Look, kid, I like ya. So don't go an' do this. Let it go."

"Get up! I'm not done with you. Let's go!"

"Look, Millhouse, I can fuck ya up bad. Don't do this. We're both in no condition to make decisions. Let's just go sit back down-"

"Coward! Sissy! Come on! I'll kill you!"

"Millhouse!"

"Wow! Chill man!

"Don't tell me to chill!"

"Millhouse," Bart began, "Look, buddy, calm down."

Millhouse swung at Brian. Brian swayed out of the path of the fist. He swung again. Brian dodged. He punched straight at him. Brian caught his hand. He squeezed the fist, imagining it was an orange. Millhouse flinched. He brought his other hand, palm open, at Brian's ear. Brian blocked, then chopped Millhouse right at the base of the neck. He fell to his knees. Brian gave his hand a twist. Millhouse squealed. He grabbed Millhouse's head in both hands, and cracked his forehead against his knee. He keeled over.

Brian turned and looked at them. He swayed a little on the spot. He began to stagger, ambling toward the door. He mumbled some apology to Moe.

"Whoa, wait! Let me get you another beer. Here, have a seat, take a load off."

Brian stumbled over and awkwardly manoeuvred onto a stool.

Bart tried to help Millhouse to his feet.

"Get off! Let me go!"

"You alright?"

"I'm fine!"

He wiped away the slow stream of blood trickling from his nose. He threw an angry look at Brian, then ran out, sobbing.

The Simpsons' home, sometime between midnight and three in the morning… 

Marge, Lisa, and Jessica were cleaning up after the party. Grandpa had brought Maggie and Eric back sometime after twelve, and they had dropped off almost immediately. Grandpa, too tired to drive back to the home, fell asleep in a chair, and didn't even move when Marge came through vacuuming. Jessica saw Homer's car pull into the driveway.

"The boys are home!"

Lisa smiled. She knew she was being silly, childish, maybe even a touch possessive, but she just was happiest around him. The door opened, and there was Bart, and her father. And there was Brian. He was pale and looked as if he was about to be sick.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

"He's fine. Just a might pickled."

"Boy, you should have seen him! Millhouse was drunk and picked a fight, and he just whupped his ass, all while drunk off his ass!"

Brian swayed and staggered in. Lisa took his arm. She cringed at the stink of alcohol and tobacco.

"Brian, you said you were cutting back…"

"It was a party though…'sides, I weren't driving…"

"You okay, Bart?" Jessica asked as she kissed him.

"Yup. How was the party, babe?"

"Wonderful. Look," she said, holding showing him the bracelet she now wore.

"Whoa! Look at that!" Homer exclaimed.

"Its from Lisa and Bri."

Lisa led Brian up to the bathroom.

"Can you handle yourself?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Okay."

Brian took of his clothes. He heard the seams of his T-shirt tear as he clumsily tore it off. He ran a cold shower. He hated cold showers. But he was so drunk, and just barely sober enough to now it, and he knew if the shower was warm he might just doze off and hit his head. The water shot signals through his dulled, buzzing nerves and straight to his besieged brain. His head _hurt!_ Like needles being shoved into his skull. He barely could wash himself he was so blinded and befuddled. He staggered out, and slipped. He fell on his hip. The pain came long after he fell. He tried to stand. He felt the pain, but was able to move. _Nothing broken…thank you God._ He got a towel and dried himself off. He wrapped the towel around himself, opened the door and stumbled down the hall to the guest room. He found one of Bart's shirts, and a pair of his shorts lying on the bed. He smiled. He tried to pull the shorts on, but almost fell over. He sat down and put them on. He pulled the shirt on. He got into the bed. He crossed himself, and murmured a few prayers. He closed his eyes, and dozed off.

Some time later, he did not know, he felt something warm move up beside him. He felt a thin, female arm around his shoulder, and a body pressing up against his back. He reached up and felt the hand. He reached behind and felt the pokey hair. He turned around. He felt her soft, warm body. He set his hand on her shoulder, felt the soft fabric of her pyjamas.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He felt her kiss his cheek. The sensation felt like it came from miles away. He smiled, and drifted off into sleep.


	6. The Wedding Day

The Wedding Day

The doors were pulled open. The blinding white midday sun poured in. Bart stood in the doorway. Millhouse stood beside him. Seamus, standing in the back with a broom, looked up to Mr. Largo in choir loft, and nodded. The conductor acknowledged, and the orchestra began to play 'The Throne Room' from _Star Wars_. Bart walked down the aisle, followed by Millhouse, and then Brian, Mac, Michael, Steve, and Nelson. All but Bart and Millhouse took their seats in the front row. Bart was visibly nervous. The armpits of his Armani jacket were stained with sweat, and he was fidgeting. He looked over his shoulder at his family. Marge was trying not to cry. Homer gave him the thumbs-up. Bart took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. He noticed the photographer, Nikki Edwards, and her assistant circling about, getting pictures of him, Millhouse, him and Millhouse, the family, the stained glass windows, and the altar and tabernacle. Nikki's assistant was busy taking several close-ups of Homer, which was annoying him greatly, when Nikki saw someone standing in the doorway. She whispered to him, and he began to rush around the front of the pews, but was stopped when she grabbed his sleeve. She pointed up to the tabernacle, and he rolled his eyes then made a vague bow/curtsey, then raced around the pews, down the side of the church, and took his position at the door. Nikki placed a fresh roll of film in her camera.

Felicia DeGeorge and Stephanie and Giselle Del Real (Gorge Del Real, a.k.a. Bumblebee Guy's daughter) entered, in frilly white gowns. They walked down the aisle, strewing the floor with white rose petals. Everyone watched little Giselle, who was barely a year old, and scarcely managed the walk down the aisle.

"Awww…isn't that precious!" Selma rasped.

"Get ready, her she comes!" Seamus called up to Mr. Largo. He nodded, and tapped his baton on the podium. The horns blared an opening, and then the strings began playing the Loghenrin.

Jessica walked down the aisle. She wore a beautiful jade dress, simple and elegant. Her face was covered with a green veil supported by a light platinum frame. Behind her was Lisa, who she chose as her maid of honour. Lisa wore a similar dress, only purple, and she wore no veil. She held a bouquet of violet roses. With her were Maggie, Sherri, Terri, and Christine Boyich (the drummer Michael Burke's girlfriend), in pastel pink dresses. Lisa could feel her stomach churning. She smiled in a silent laugh. She wiped a tear from her face with her silk-gloved hand. She was crying, at a wedding! She looked at Jessica. She was anxious, and yet almost serene.

Jessica walked forward, keeping the slow, rhythmic pace she had practiced at the rehearsal. She looked at the people in the crowd. Some were whispering, a few crying, and many were watching her in awed silence. Nearly all were smiling. This was her day.

She kept her bare hands in front of her, left hand over right. Her engagement ring, a gold, platinum mix with an enormous three-carat diamond set off frantic whispering.

"Oh, that's no the first one. The first one was just a one-carat. After their first album sold two million, Bart went out and bought it for her!" someone hissed to a friend.

They came to the front pews. The girls went to their respective seats. Lisa set her hand on the front, and half genuflected while attempting the Sign of the Cross. She could go all the way onto on knee, as she was in a dress. She stood and moved in, sitting between Brian and Artie.

"Lisa, doll, you look marvellous!" he said to her.

"Thanks Uncle Artie."

Bart and Lisa knelt on the two kneelers at the front of the altar.

Father O'Flaherty and Father Sean came out from the alcove.

"In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost."

"Amen," many answered. For many of the family's friends, this was their first time in a Catholic church, besides their first time at a Mass.

"May the Peace of Lord Jesus Christ, the Fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you."

"Et cum tu spiritu," Lisa heard Brian say. She smiled. "And also with you."

"My brothers and sisters in Christ, friends and family, we are gathered together this day to witness the union of our son, Bartholomew Jay Simpson, and our daughter Jessica Lovejoy, in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony. Let us now stand, an implore the forgiveness of Our Infinitely Merciful Father."

Brian stood first, then Homer, Marge, Eric, Lisa, and Maggie. Selma looked around and stood, and Selma followed. Artie remained sitting until Selma pulled him up by the ear.

"I confess to Almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned Through my own fault,

In what I have done,

And in what I have failed to do,

And I ask Blessed Mary Ever Virgin,

All the Angels and Saints,

And you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me, to the Lord, Our God."

The prayer was not said by all present. Many tried, mumbling the words after the priest said them. Artie did not even try. Lisa had watched Brian as he prayed. He seemed so desperate in his prayer. It was as though God were truly standing before him, and all he could do was throw himself before Him and plead for his soul. It saddened her, the desperation and sadness in his spirituality. But it was part of why she loved him, as well.

The first reading was done by Father Sean, who read the passage from Genesis of how God created man and woman. Marge recalled how that same passage was read at the one Catholic wedding she had gone to before. _Hrmmm…I hope there isn't any incense this time. I really like this dress._

Father Sean read the next passage as well, from the writings of St. Paul, urging husbands and wives to love and be faithful to one another. Lisa recalled that she had liked that passage when she was little. _There is a genuine appeal to this Faith._

The organ began to play.

"Ha-llelu-iah! Ha-llelu-iah! Ha-a-llelu-iah!" a voice sang.

All the Catholics in the church rose. The others followed.

"Ha-llelu-iah! Ha-llelu-iah! Ha-a-llelu-iah!"

The caller chanted something in Latin. The inflections were unusual, and Lisa couldn't understand all the words. _God…spirit…love…holy_…

"Ha-llelu-iah! Ha-llelu-iah! Ha-a-llelu-iah!"

Fr. O'Flaherty crossed the altar, genuflecting and crossing himself as he passed before the golden tabernacle, and went over to the podium. He read from the Gospel. It was the passage about the wedding feast at Canaan. There, though He claimed it was not yet his time, Jesus performed His first miracle, at His Blessed Mother's request. He performed His first miracle at a wedding.

"Please be seated," said O'Flaherty.

The guests sat, while Jessica and Bart knelt.

Father O'Flaherty gave a sermon in his usual style, short and simple. He spoke of how Christ's choice to perform His first miracle, though it was not part of His plan, at a wedding, and how this showed his support of marriage as the ideal. He also quoted the Gospel passage in which Christ spoke out against divorce, in which Jesus said 'What God has joined together, let no man separate'. He spoke of how love is unifying, and how love produces new life.

The marriage rites followed. Eric was the ring bearer.

"Do you, Jessica Lovejoy, take this man, Bartholomew Jay Simpson, to love, honour, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, for better of for worse, for the rest of your natural life?"

She took a deep breath. She smiled, a single tear slid down her face.

"I do."

"And do you, Bartholomew Jay Simpson, take this woman, Jessica Lovejoy, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honour, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, as long as you both should live?"

He looked wide-eyed at Jessica. He was hyperventilating. He gulped. He smiled. He took her hand.

"I do."

"Then by the power invested in me, through the ministry of the Roman Catholic Church, I pronounce you both man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jessica threw her arms around Bart's shoulders. They kissed like they never kissed before. Everyone whooped and hollered.

"Yeah!" Homer yelled.

"Shh!" Fr. Sean hissed. "The Mass isn't over yet!"

"Hmm…sorta' anticlimactic, don't you think?" Artie whispered.

The liturgy of the Eucharist followed. Bart and Jessica were the first to receive, for the first time together as husband and wife.

"Brothers and sisters, if you are not Catholic you may come to the front of the altar, but you will not be able to receive the Eucharist but you will receive a blessing, so if you wish to come up, please cross your arms across your chest so we'll know."

Lisa watched as Brian walked up to the altar. Bart looked at him over his shoulder. Brian smiled, and Bart nodded and raised a victorious fist. Brian knelt at the altar railing. Lisa knelt next to him, arms across her breast.

"The Body of Christ."

"Amen."

Lisa saw how he barely was able to say 'Amen', so bad was his trembling. He crossed himself and stood.

Father Sean came to her. He hesitated, nearly taking out another consecrated Host, then traced the Sign of the Cross on Lisa's forehead.

"God bless you, Lisa."

She smiled, then rose and returned to her seat. She looked at Brian, who was kneeling. His eyes were tightly shut. The faint trembling of his lips showed that he was praying fiercely. Lisa placed her hand on his shoulder. She felt the calm that was welling up within him wash into her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She saw Marge, Homer, Maggie, and Eric kneeling as well. The only ones not kneeling were her Grandfather, Grandma Bouvier, her two aunts, and Artie, who was Jewish. Artie sat, legs crossed, hands his knees, looking as though he were somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

Everyone rose. Fr. O'Flaherty led the closing. He then congratulated Bart and Jessica on their wedding, and told everyone that the reception was at the Irish Legion Hall right across the street.

"Our Mass has ended, let us now go in peace to serve the Lord Our God and one another."

"Thanks be to God."

"Thanks be to God for you," Bart said to Jessica.

The bells began to clang. Everybody cheered.


	7. The Party

The Party

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"Hey! Shut-up! I'm tryin' to make a toast here!" Homer yelled. The hall became silent.

"Thank you. Ahem. Twenty five years ago, give or take, my son Bart was born. Since then, my wife and I have faced disaster after disaster. He was expelled, arrested, shot at, nearly murdered several times, and lead many an underage insurrection. Our doctor said that our life expectancies would drop exponentially, whatever that means, each year he remained under our roof. We thought he would end up a convict, bum or drifter, so you can imagine the how happy we were when he became co-DJ with Jessica. Twelve years before, he had met Jessica, and at the time, both seemed to be on the fast trains to nowhere. They became sweethearts, if only briefly, due to some petty theft charges. After two years working together, their long-dormant attraction became love. That love was latter tested, and strengthened, by the mysterious event of last Fall which I have sworn not to divulge. With help from my daughter Lisa, her friend Brian Callahan, and the local group 'Ravin'', they formed a band. And with help from my old friend 'Weird Al' Yankovic, who once saved Marge and me's marriage, and Danny Elfman and Tim Burton, their first record was a hit, and their music video on VH1 wowed millions. And now, here they are, on the beginning of the crazed rocket ride that is marriage, and all I can say is 'Jess, he's all yours!' Thank you." And he passed out on the table.

'Weird Al' stood up, and rose a glass.

"I'd just like to say how happy I am to see Bart and Jessica today, happily married. And I'd be wrong to take all the credit for their success. I mean, sure, I got them some interviews, but Elfman over here helped out with that too, and let them cover some of his best songs for their first album. Also, I'm very happy for their success, as there are very few groups of their calibre out there nowadays. Plus, more new songs means more parodies!"

"Mazel tov!"

"You guys are great, all of you. Bart an' Jess, but also Bri and Lisa, Burke, Cho, Mac, al of you. You're just great. You guys proudly follow in the footsteps of Oingo Boingo, pushing the boundaries of rock and pop, mainstream and cult, originality and weirdness. I wish you at least as many years as Boingo got-seventeen!-or at least comparable wealth and success focussed into a shorter period of time."

"Yeah!"

"I'll drink to that!" called Mac.

Another guest arrived. It was Sting. He walked in, waved aside all the cheering, and took his place at the guest table.

"C'mon Sting, a toast! Toast!"

"Okay. I'd just like to congratulate the newlyweds on their marriage, and wish them a long, happy life together. May they always be successful in their music, but may their success always enhance, not interfere, with their love. And may you never take a movie role that you'll regret and be haunted by forever-case in point, my playing 'Feyd Rautha', the Baron Harkonen's contemptible boy-toy, in 'Dune'."

Applause.

Billy Idol was quite drunk when it came time for him to toast. All he could manage was to stand up raise a fist and say, "I love youse two! Rock on!"

Brian rose. He was fairly composed. He rose his glass of champagne.

"I wish the newlyweds nothing but happiness. May they continue to grow in love and understanding, and, should God bless them with children, may their love only multiply. Bart, Jess, you two are the coolest. I love you both. God bless."

Everyone drank and toasted and ate. Brian returned from the buffet with seconds. Lisa looked at his plate and frowned.

"C'mon, darling. The animals' are already dead. It would be an insult to their sacrifice not to enjoy the flesh they sacrificed for us."

She continued to frown. Fifteen years of strict vegetarianism had left her unable to stand the very sight of animal flesh.

"Lisa, if everyone went vegetarian, all the ranchers would lose all their money and be unable to support their families. And all the animals would have to be euthanized, as most meat animals have been bred so they are unable to live on their own. They've been bred to grow, and at a point, they get slaughtered. If not, they continue to grow-"

"Brian…please, not here. Not now."

He looked at her. His eyes grew so sad. Lisa felt torn between her love for him, and her belief that meat was pure and simple murder.

"I'm sorry Lisa. You know I love you."

"I know. I love you, Brian, but I-"

"And I love you enough to forgo both meat and this argument-for today, if not forever."

"Wha-?"

"That's right," he said, taking his plate and half-standing. He looked up the family table at Homer. "Homer, you want the rest of this?"

"Hmm? Whatya got?"

"Meat ravioli, veal parmagiani, and chicken al forno."

"Pass it over."

"Artie, could you hand this over to him?"

"Sure thing."

"So, Artie, how ya' doin'?"

"Well, its been difficult, you know. I could my sentence cut, so I got out in only five years. Five was punishment enough! Oy! Don't even make me remember! Where was I? Oh yes, I got a job at a local internet service, and I do some work on the side as a troubleshooter. I hack, sometimes, just for fun. I once got some guy's computer to send ten thousand dollars straight to my-oh crap, the cops!"

Ralph, Eddie Junior, and Lou Junior walked by.

"Hi Lisa! Hi Mr. Lisa! We're here for the party!"

"Hi Ralph! Heh heh. How are you and Celeste?"

"Celeste is the Ephalant in Babar's wife! Ephalants are huggy!"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay boys, to the buffet! And then the open bar!"

"Whatever you say chief."

Lisa shook her head. "I can not believe I used to go out with him."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "You went out with Ralph Wiggum?"

"Well, kinda', for like a week, in second grade."

"Oh. Whew! That doesn't count then."

"I guess not. Nor does Nelson."

Brian spat his champagne across the table, hitting Grandpa Simpson in the face.

"Was that a joke? You went out with Nelson!"

"For two weeks. Again, in second grade!"

"Second grade. Sigh . Guess nothing could've happened then."

"Well, I did get my first kiss…"

Brian spat out his champagne again.

"Hey!" Grandpa whinned. "That stuff's for drinkin', not squirtin'!

"Sorry Pops. But, really, your first kiss was with Nelson Muntz!"

"Not so loud! Yes! I told you, I was in second grade! I was eight years old! It means nothing to me!"

"I'm sorry. When I'm drunk I get both loud and jealous."

"Well, you are on your fifth glass. Maybe you should switch to Buzz cola or something."

"No way. The last thing you need is a sugared-up, caffeinated drunk. I'll just get a some of that sparkling cider."

"Good call. Could you get me one too?"

"Huh? Sure thing babe." And he staggered off.

"Well, he is quite a catch Lis'," Aunt Selma wheezed.

"No criminal record?" Patty asked.

Lisa was about to answer, but Selma cut in. "Checked. He's clean."

"How'd you get his records?"

"Ralph is easy to bribe."

"He has a weakness for fudgecicles."

"And he's got a doctorate in Christian theology, and majors in both classical philosophy and theology. He's keeper."

After a while it was time for the first dance. The band they hired played 'You Send Me'. After that, Homer danced with Jessica and Marge with Bart. Marge was crying.

"Oh Bart, I can't believe it. My special little guy, my baby boy, all grown up and married. I'm just so happy for you."

"Mom, please. You're crying in front of everybody."

Later, Elfman got up on stage and, after prepping the band, announced it as time for the everyone to get out on the floor.

The entire party got out and danced. Bart and Jessica were whipping around the dance floor, wilder and faster than all the others.

"With sadness in my heart, and joy in my mind,

I thought about the ghost that we left behind.

With everyone around telling us what to do,

With deafening sound whisper 'I love you'.

With fire in your eyes, may it never go out.

The sweetness of your tears make it feel like night.

I see no escape from the roles we always play.

What do we have to prove on this judgement day?"

"You're _mine_ now, but you're _not my sister!_

You're _mine _now, but you're _not my slave!_

You're _mine _now, but you're _not my child!_

You're _mine _now, but you're _not my slave!_

"You're missing the whole point; you're not my little pet.

Don't throw away your life; the game's not over yet.

I do not own your soul; don't want you in a cage.

I only want your heart to find that special place"

Lisa danced with Brian. He laughed, and she turned and saw Eric dancing with Felicia. She laughed.

"With sand in my heart, and clouds in my head,

I thought about us both and the lives we lead.

From pages in a book, and pictures on a screen,

We make ourselves like clay from _someone else's_ dream.

In one second you are pressed just like stones at my feet,

But I am not a king please don't worship me."

"With sadness in my heart, and joy in my mind,

I thought about the ghost that we left behind.

With everyone around telling us what to do,

With deafening sound whisper 'I love you'

You're missing the whole point; you're not my little pet.

Don't throw away your life; the game's not over yet.

I do not own your soul; don't want you in a cage.

I only want your heart to find that special place"

Everyone cheered. Elfman sang a few more of his Oingo Boingo songs, then called to Brian and brought him up on stage.

"Now, one need only listen to Jess and Bart's radio show, or one of their albums for that matter, to figure out that they love classic rock. So, Brian here, one of their fellow-fans, and piano-player like no other, is gonna help me play a song Jess loves, and Bart secretly likes, and virtually ever baby-boomer has hear fifty-billion times."

He whispered something to Brian who smiled and nodded.

Brian sat down at the piano, practised a few chords, adjusted the mic, then began playing 'American Pie'.

"…the day…the music…died…"

Applause and whistling engulfed the party. Brian went to the front of the stage, and took a bow. Before he could leave the stage, Elfman stopped him.

"Now, while Jessica and Bart are very much the face and voice of 'The Springfield Seven', Brian and Lisa are the heart and soul, acting as managers, agents, songwriters, accountants, and PR managers for the group, in addition to supplying bass, piano, acoustic guitar, saxophone, and backup vocals. In addition, the two, like Bart and Jessica, are positively nuts about each other."

Lisa blushed and smiled as she mounted the stage. Everybody laughed and "Awww"-ed. She wasn't used to being 'a couple', at least, publicly. Only Jessica, Patty and Selma, her mother, and Eric had known.

"And so, its only fitting the two serenade the newlyweds with a song I wrote. The title truly describes Bart and Jessica: 'Meant To Be'."

Brian rolled his eyes. Lisa set her hand on her face and shook her head. With a sigh of resignation, she looked at Brian, who nodded. They began to sing.

Suddenly, the doors of the Irish Legion Hall were flung open, revealing a veritable army of screaming teenage girls burst in.

"Danny!" Burton screamed, "You idiot! This is the week of the Bi-Mon-Sci-Fi-Con! The town is crawling with fans of my 'NBC'! Plus, they know you as the voice of Jack! What do we do?"

"Run!"

They made a break for the back door.

"You head for the limo, I' sneak around to the front and take the motorcycle. Deploy! The Deppbots!"

The mob of screeching nerds was gaining. Suddenly, they were intercepted by four robots. One of the Johnny Deppbots was Depp from _Edward Scissorhands_, the other was Depp's character from _Sleepy Hollow_, the next was modelled after Capt. Jack Sparrow, the third was a 'normal' version of Johnny Depp. The screaming teens made short work of them. But they bought Elfman and Burton valuable escape time.

"Well, that's a shame," Brian said.

"At least we don't have to finish the stupid song."

"Yeah. That's a plus."

"Guys, Mr. Elfman really is a talented man, but _Nightmare Before Christmas _is annoying, artistically flawed, and seriously overrated, and it is a terrible shame that most kids these days know Elfman for some of his least spectacular compositions."

"His best song from that whole craptacular mess is 'This Is Halloween', and even that gets only three stars on my iPod!"

"Plus he doesn't even sing in it!"

"But here is a great song from another great artist, two artists, actually."

"This is for my brother Bart and his wife Jessica."

"Don't go breakin' my heart!" Brian sang.

"I couldn't if I tried!" Lisa replied

Everyone laughed and clapped.

The dancing went on all afternoon. Around five, the enormous wedding cake was brought out. Bart and Jessica were to eat the first piece together, but Bart's attempt to feed Jessica resulted in her near-loss of an eye, and the whole thing devolved into a cake fight between the two, which, with the entire party being thoroughly drunk, and the only non-Springfielders present being thoroughly liqueured-up over-the-hill rockers, the whole ordeal became a ferocious food fight.

"Darn it! This is my favourite suit! My only one," Seymour growled, "Why must every well-attended event in this town result in either a riot, Hindenburg-ian disaster, or some other gross display of chaos?"

"Ah, quite yer bitchin' Seymour. Take this!" Edna laughed as she chucked a piece of cake at him. "Ha!"

"Brian, we need an escape plan!" Bart yelled amidst the rioting.

Brian nodded signalled to Steve, Burke, and Mac, and rushed up onto the stage.

"Well, the bride and groom are leaving now. One last song while they make a break for the door! One, two, three, four!"

They played 'Goodbye, Goodbye'. The party followed Bart and Jessica out to the limo. They waved goodbye. Jess tossed the bouquet. 'Old Gil' was ready to catch it, but Homer punched him out of the way and lifted up Eric, who caught it and cheered. The couple waved and boarded the limo, which screeched down the road as soon the door shut.

"Well, they're gone," Homer said. It had just hit him: his boy, his oldest child, was truly on his own now. It was one of those rare moments he was actually proud of his son, and almost didn't regret the series of choices that had resulted in his being born. Marge hugged him.


	8. To Rancho Relaxo

To Rancho Relaxo

Bart and Jessica watched out the back window as the party pulled away. They laughed exhaustedly. Bart turned and sat. Jessica watched for a while longer, then turned and sighed.

"Well, were married."

"That we are, that we are," said Bart, shaking his head in stunned disbelief.

"You got all our bags packed, right?"

"Yes ma'am, all in the trunk."

"Where to first?"

"We're gonna' crash at Rancho Relaxo for the next week, then head on out to Palm Springs, then Hawaii."

"Quite a trip you've got planned for us, baby," Jessica giggled as she got a bottle of golden liquid out of the minibar. She took out two crystal goblets, handed one to Bart, and filled them both with the amber liqueur. She raised her glass, and Bart wrapped his arm around hers. They both took a sip, Bart's longer and faster. She swallowed and smiled, but he cough and sputtered.

"What is this?"

"Mead?"

"Que?

"Honey wine. Couples would drink mead for their first month together. Honey, for mead, which is made out of honey, and moon, as they used to measure months by the moon. Honey+moon equals honeymoon. Get it?"

"Think so," he said. He looked at the drink in his hands. He forced another sip. "It does have alcohol in it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. Can't be all that bad." He tossed the glass aside, and took Jessica by the hands. "Ahh. Forty whole days of vacation. Just you, and me. Together."

They started to kiss. Jessica leaned back, pulling Bart on top of her. They continued to kiss until Bart noticed the driver staring at them through the rearview mirror.

"Eyes on the road, bub."

"Oh. Heh heh. Sorry boss. Heh."

They sat back up.

"Well, I guess we can wait until we get to the resort."

"Oh no! Don't let me interfere, please, continue!"

"Eyes front!" Jessica growled.

"Yes'm."

They talked the whole drive. They watched as the city faded into countryside, and then rolling hills, then woods. The road went onwards and upwards, carrying them up into the mountains. The woods grew deeper and greener. The sun had set, and the sky was growing dark. Jessica, try as she might, became a little scared. Bart held her close and assured her that they would be safe.

"What if we crash?"

"I had the limo modified. We're rich now, so I can do these things for us. It has a rollover-resistant alloy roof, side airbags, and inch-thick, bullet-proof, heat-resistant windows. We couldn't possibly die, even if we went off a cliff. Plus, it has GPS tracking and INSTAR, so they'd know the second something went wrong and send help."

"What if we get a flat tire? What if we're out here in the dark?"

"We have flares, two spare tires, a jack, and the aforementioned INSTAR (whose manufacturer's lawyers contend is in no way a rip-off of OnStar)."

"What if there are…you know…vampires?"

"Jess, we've handled UnDead losers before. You still got all your Kung Fu, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, so do I, plus I brought two pistols, three stakes, a hammer, a few knives, an axe, a sword, and a few little things of holy water. Look!" and he took a small bottle of holy water out of his shirt pocket. "And-" he pulled out the St. Bartholomew holy medal and the silver crucifix that he wore around his neck.

She smiled.

"What's with all the 'what if's, babe?"

"Just, I dunno, nervous, I guess."

"About what?"

"How, we'll do?"

"Jessica, we've been living like this for, what, six months at least? Seeing each other two years? Known each other for fifteen years? We're financially secure. We have a house. We have three cars, a limo, a yacht, a career. We're healthy, we have compatible blood types, no communicable diseases, no psychological hang-ups…"

Jess looked anxious and pensive.

"Jess, I know you're nervous. This is a big deal. We belong to each other now. One flesh, one heart. One tax form. There's a lot of responsibility and effort in marriage, and hey! neither of us have ever been good at responsibility or hard work. But we'll manage. We'll slog through, like we always have. And we'll always have each other."

"Bart, that is so sweet. Where's it from?"

"From me!"

"No way. Where? Self-help book? Marriage counsellor? Movie? Friend?"

"Honest to God. I did spend a little time thinking about what I'd say if you were freakin' out about something."

"Hmm. Good job." She said. She smiled and laughed.

"What?"

"You're just so sweet Bart. I could really get used to you!"

"Damn better. 'Cause that was a _Catholic_ marriage, and you're stuck with me unless you can prove we weren't really married in the first place."

"How's that work?"

"You know, like if you had been a hooker before you met me, and had fifty STDs, and you didn't tell me until know-"

"Bart, I'm a hooker and I have fifty STDs. I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier, but I was afraid you'd reject me."

Bart's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Psych! C'mon, Bart. I was at Princeton before I came back to Springfield. And you went with me to the doctor. Jeez, you really are a Simpson!"

"So are you!"

"Only by marriage."

"Anyway, or if you were still married within the Catholic Church at the time, or if we were being forced to marry, or if one of us didn't intend to do any of what we said before we said 'I do', or if the priest was really an actor on a new reality show."

"Who would do that sort of thing? And what network would take such a show?"

"Actually, a few years ago, Fox did."

"Oh."

They pulled up at the front entrance to the Rancho Relaxo.

"We're here!"

"Hot damn!"

Their limo driver got out and opened the door for them. Bart climbed out, and extended a hand to Jessica. The valets came and got their bags out of the trunk. The driver tapped Bart on the shoulder and extended a hand.

"Oh, right. How much was it now?"

"Let's see, I waited at the party for three hours, a four hour drive, plus out of town, plus the booze you guys drank back their, I'd say an even two thousand bucks."

"What the-! Oh hell, here," Bart said taking two thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills from his wallet. "And here, you got us here safe and sound, plus I'm feeling pretty generous." He handed the driver four packets of ten one hundred dollar bills.

"Wow, thanks a lot pal!" he said. He tucked it into his pants pocket and hopped in the limo.

Bart picked Lisa up in his arms and carried her into the resort. He set her down at the counter while he checked in and got their room key, then carried her to the elevator.

"Which floor, sir?" the squeaky-voiced teen valet asked.

"Third Floor."

"Yes sir." he said, pressing the button. After a while he gasped and said, "You're Bart Simpson and Jessica No-Longer-Lovejoy, from 'The Springfield Nine'!"

"Yep."

"Wow, what are you guys doing here? Illicit love affair?"

"I'll have you know we just got married," Jessica growled, holding up her bejewelled hand.

"Oh, sorry. Can I have your autograph?"

"Sigh! There's an autographed picture of our group in my left coat pocket," Bart grumbled. He turned so the pimply geek could get it.

"Wow, thanks mister!" he squeaked as the bell chimed and the couple got off on their floor. They got off, followed by the valets with all their luggage.

"Hey!" the squeaky-voiced teen called, "This picture is made out to 'Emily'. That isn't my name!"

The elevator doors closed.

They reached their room. The valets opened the door for them, and brought their bags in. Bart carried Jessica across the threshold, and set her down on the king-sized bed. The valets started to put their clothes in the closets and dressers.

"Umm, its okay guys, we'll do all that later. We just want to be alone now." Jessica told them.

"Here," Bart said, standing up and handing them each a fifty dollar bill. They smiled, tipped their hats, and left. Bart closed the door after them, and locked it. He turned around, then turned back, unlocked the door, opened, it, set the 'Do not disturb' notice on the doorknob, and closed and locked the door once more. "Ahh, the honeymoon suite. A California King Bed, jumbo-sized Jacuzzi for two-zzi, President Taft-sized bathtub, shower, private mud bath, stat-of-the-art stereo, seventy-two inch LCD widescreen TV with THX surround sound and digital cable, including HBO, and TeeBo, so we can watch whatever we want whenever we want. And look at that view! All the majesty of Springfield National Park, and in the distance, the remnants of the majestic Murderhorn!" He walked over to the bed and sat down next to his wife. He took her hand and kissed it. "But it might as well be a doghouse if you weren't here with me." She kissed him.

"You're such a romantic."

"Thanks…that's good, right?"

"Yes."

"Great. I'm going to take a shower."

"Mind if I join?"

"Eww! Wait…sure!"

She laughed and kissed him.

"Just one thing!" he said. He walked over to the wall and flipped open a panel. He pressed a button. The lights lowered. He pressed another. The logs in the fireplace ignited. "Cool". He scrolled through the menus. "There we go; 'Playlist 4'…'song 1'." Van Morisson's 'Tupelo Honey' began playing.


	9. Working On A New Album

Working On A New Album

"Yeah, an' we'll have it sorta'…sorta' bouncy like that."

"Right, somewhat like 'Hit the Road, Jack'."

"Yeah. Okay, once from the top!"

They played the song again. Lisa tried to keep her saxophone in the right range while listening to Brian play. 'Bouncy'…that was the kind of playing he enjoyed the most. It was the part of jazz and blues that appealed the most to him. He loathed what he called 'elevator music', or worse, 'Starbucks crap music'. But a fast, funky track, with a good beat and humour in its lyrics…that he could handle. His style on the piano reminded Lisa of the late Ray Charles.

"Okay, that's a wrap!" the recording technicians called.

"Okay guys, break for lunch! When we come back, we'll finish the next three tracks!" Lisa called.

"How was that?" Brian asked.

"Good!"

"I kept screwin' up the first few times. Too classical."

"More 'soap opera' like, I thought."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

"Well, you want me to be honest with you, don't you?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, you're right."

"Want to get lunch?"

"Sure. The Bagel Shop?"

"Okay."

_At the Bagel Shop…_

Lisa ate her salad quietly. Brian munched contentedly on his tuna salad on a bagel.

"Something wrong, Lis'?"

"Brian…we need to talk."

Brian dropped his sandwich. He stared at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Its about…us. I love you, but…I don't know if we can work out."

Brian swallowed. He began to hypervenilate.

"What…do you mean?"

"I mean, we just aren't compatible. You adamantly defend the right to eat meat, but I say meat if murder, even tuna."

"But, not to interrupt your explaining why we can't work, you lived with, and continue to love and eat with your family, even though they are bigger carnivores than I!"

"But, I am part of them, and they are part of me. They're family, and I can't change that. But you…I don't know if I can marry someone, live with someone, who eats animals on a regular basis."

Brian brought his hand down his face and took a deep hissing breath. It was what he often did in an argument, when he felt that he was at risk of losing.

"I've given you my reasons for continuing to eat meat many times. But you've never really listened, Lisa."

"Because they aren't good enough!"

"Listen, and evaluate all data. First of all, protein. People need protein for brain and muscle function. While dairy products, beans, and soy can easily provide protein, many are allergic to dairy and/or soy. Secondly, it is natural. In the wild, carnivores, omnivores, and scavengers survive on meat. As omnivores, we homo sapiens can, and, by both our evolutionary history and physiology, should eat meat."

Lisa was growing aggravated.

"Hear what I say, don't just listen! How can you know the truth if you won't give it a chance! Thirdly, the meat industry. Ranchers. Land owners. The people who care for the animals. The people who supply food for the animals. The people who pack and transport the animals. The owners and operators of the slaughterhouse. The packers. The butchers. The grocers. The restaurant owners, operators and employees. Think. Those are tens, hundreds of thousands of people, not counting all their dependents and those who profit from the money they spend and the products they buy. Think, if meat was no longer eaten, all these people would lose jobs. Expensive slaughter houses would be useless."

Lisa had become extremely agitated by the word 'slaughterhouse'.

"Please. Fourth, the animals themselves. Nearly all meat animals are domesticated, selectively bred creatures. They have no physical or instinctual strengths that would help them survive in the wild. Many, if not slaughtered at a certain age, continue to grow until their weight causes their bones to break, and they die of starvation or predation. Finally, modern slaughtering methods are much more humane than those shown in that old inforeel they showed you in grade school. The animals are rendered unconscious instantly by an electrical shock to the head. They feel little pain, for a very short amount of time. Their jugular vein and corotid artery are then severed. Their blood pressure, combined with the gravity of hanging upside-down, causes them to die very quickly."

Lisa had had enough. She stood up and left. Brian tried to follow, but the venomous look she threw him stopped him in his tracks.

Lisa hoped on her yellow scooted and drove home. She parked her scooter in the garage. She ran up to the door and pressed the buzzer. Mr. Short opened the door. Crying, she run to the elevator, not even bothering to say hello.

Lisa fell onto her bed and cried. She looked up, seeing the photograph of herself with Brian. She slammed it down, shattering the glass. She cried for hours. The sky grey dark outside.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Lisa sat up. It was dark. She had fallen asleep. She turned on a light and walked over to the door. She looked through the peephole. A teary-eyed Brian was at the door, with a bouquet of red roses and large box of chocolates. She frowned. She thought for a second, the opened the door.

Brian crawled in, on his knees.

"Please, Lisa, my world, the pulse of my heart, forgive me!"

Lisa was both angry at the sight of him, and annoyed by his melodramatic display. But Lisa knew, however awkward what he said and did made her feel, unlike some, such as Millhouse, he was sincere. She felt her anger melt away.

"Get up. Brian, I forgive you. Look, I was rude. I'm all wound up with this album…for the love of pound cake! The recording session!"

"I cancelled. Lisa, look, I won't ever go back on my beliefs. But I love you more than any meat, even blackened salmon or fillet mignon. That is why," he said as he rose, "I worked this out." He set the apology gifts on the table, and took out a legal form.

"What is that?"

"An agreement between the two of us."

They sat down at the table. Brian took out his reading glasses.

"Article 1: Lisa Simpson, whenever she cooks for Brian Callahan and/or herself, shall do so only when she has both physical and mental capacity to do so and does so on her own free will. Agreed?"

"Umm…okay."

"Good. Article 2: Lisa Simpson, when and if she cooks, shall never be forced to make a dish containing the flesh, bones, fat, blood, or body parts of any animal, including fish, shellfish, molluscs, insects, and amphibians. Article 3: When in the domicile of Lisa Simpson, or when Lisa Simpson is in his home or in an apartment, suite, or room in which he/both parties are staying/dwelling, Brian Callahan shall neither store, prepare, or serve meals containing meat, meat by-products, or animal parts. Article 4: when dining with Lisa Simpson, Brian Callahan will not order or consume any dish containing meat, meat by-products, or animal body parts. Article 5: Brian Callahan shall never eat meat, meat by-products, animal products, or any dish containing them in the presence of Lisa Simpson, or in her home. Article 6: Brian Callahan is to never store meat, meat by-products, animal body parts, or any dish containing them in the refrigerator, freezer, pantry, or anywhere in Lisa Simpson's domicile, or in any place in his domicile while Lisa Simpson is present there. Article 7: Brian Whelan is not to comment on Lisa Simpson's vegetarianism, the vegetarianism of others present, vegetarianism as exhibited by celebrities (excluding the utterly repugnant Pamela Anderson Lee, about whom everything is disgusting), or vegetarianism as a lifestyle/dietary choice in the presence of Lisa Simpson or other vegetarians. Article 8: Any meat Brian Callahan does consume must not be eaten in the presence of Lisa Simpson or vegetarians, and none is to be wasted. Article 9: Fridays shall be days on which Brian Callahan eats no meat or animal-derived foodstuffs from any source. Article 10: Each Lent, Brian Callahan shall give up meat, meat-by products, and any non-egg or dairy animal-derived foodstuffs. Article 11: Brian Callahan shall be allowed to eat meat in the presence of Lisa Simpson only on the following occasions: His birthday dinner, birthday dinners of parent(s) and immediate relatives of either party, Christmas, New Year's, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Labor Day, Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, and Thanksgiving. Subarticle 1: If such celebration is to take place at the home of Brian Callahan, leftover meat and animal-derived foodstuffs are to be given to friends or family. Subarticle 2: In the event of such occasion taking place at the Callahan domicile, Lisa is not to prepare any meat dishes, meat by-product dishes, or similar foodstuffs. Brian Callahan or others are to do so, and Brian Callahan will be responsible for ensuring that there is a good variety of vegetarian fair available to Lisa Simpson and others. Subarticle 3: In the event of Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, or Easter taking place at Callahan domicile, Brian Callahan will, in addition to standard turkey/goose/ham, will prepare multiple vegetarian side dishes (candied yams, mashed potatoes, string beans, steamed vegetables, salad, soup, vegetarian dressing, et al), as well as, if desired, a tofu meat substitute main dish. Article 12: all aforementioned agreements and articles are null in void of Lisa Simpson renouncing vegetarianism."

Brian took a deep breath and sighed. He took out a pen and handed it and the document to Lisa. He folded his glasses.

"So, what dya think? Pretty thorough?"

"Yeah. You really mean to stick to this?"

"Lisa, I would eat dog food for the rest of my life if I had to in order to keep you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You're the only one who's ever understood me."

Lisa smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Oh Brian, you don't have to do this."

"But I want to. Not that I agree with vegetarianism in principle, but in that its your choice and your belief, and if its what you believe, I don't want to make light of it or insult your decision."

She smiled. She took up the pen. She printed her name, then signed it. She handed it back to Brian, who signed it.

"And in the morning we can get it to a notary."

Lisa sighed. "Our first pre-nuptial agreement."

"This call for a celebration."

The Rolling Stones' 'Let's Spend the Night Together' began to play in the background.

They broke out a bottle of white wine. Brian made some air-popped popcorn, and they sat up and watched the original Japanese version the Godzilla movies late into the night. Lisa fell asleep on Brian's shoulder.

The song faded out.

Lisa woke up. The sun was shining in through the window. The blanket stuck to her skin with sweat. She felt the weight of her cat Marty on her legs.

"Morning Marty," she yawned.

She found a note on the coffee table.

"Don't be late for the recording today. I love you. Brian."

Lisa hopped off the couch and rushed to get dressed. She had fallen asleep in her clothes. She dressed quickly, then hauled it to the studio.

She sauntered into the sound stage.

"About time!" one of the switchboard operators scoffed.

"Sorry."

She strapped her saxophone on over her shoulder.

"You ready?" Brian asked from the piano.

"Yep."

"Okay, track 7, 'Second Grade Blues'!"


	10. A Golden Afternoon In Summer

A Golden Afternoon in Summer

Brian and Lisa walked along the narrow shore between the sea cliffs and the sea. They had spent the morning packing a picnic lunch of egg salad and vegemite sandwiches ("Its such a pleasant break from peanut butter, and its packed with vitamins and minerals!" Lisa explained after the Brian cautiously tasted a speck of the red-brown yeast goo) and lemonade. Brian had slung his guitar over his shoulder, and Lisa lugged along her saxophone.

There was but a few metres of beach for them to sit on. The waves would certainly reach them by high tide. But it was still early in the day, and the tide was just at its lowest point.

"This is beautiful, Brian."

"I knew you'd love it."

"Its like another world. Just hear, the sheer cliff walls, the broiling sea, the golden sun, the air so fresh and clean…"

"Like the beginning of the world."

Lisa looked at him and smiled.

"My thoughts exactly."

He looked at her and smiled. _The wind in her hair, her cheeks ruddy with the salty breeze, barefoot on the sand…beautiful._

"Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?"

Her smile became smaller, her lips puckered slightly.

"Not someone who really meant it."

They sat and talked for a while. Lisa felt like playing her sax, and Brian accompanied her on his guitar. The idea was that they could maybe work on a few ideas for their new

Springfield Nine album, but the wind just blew their papers all around, so they just gave it up and had fun.

They decided to go swimming. Lisa found herself, if only that lingering vestige of her petty schoolgirl self, disappointed at Brian's physique. He wasn't _fat_, nor was he a rippling mass of muscle or thin and gaunt. She reasoned it was just that he looked soft. But she knew better. She'd seen him the year before actually killing, and, from both his total clobbering of Millhouse two months before, and his effortless climb down the jagged cliffs showed that he was still in good shape. _You're so shallow! What are you, twelve?_

"Want to go see one of the caves."

"There are caves?"

"Sure. Let's go back in, I brought two flashlights back in the basket."

"Okay."

After they got back to the shore, towelled off and dressed, they walked along the narrow shore to the cave. The water was just a few feet from the cave. Brian knew Lisa would notice and be worried that they would get caught inside with the high tide.

"It won't take long. There's just something in here I want you to see."

Lisa immediately began to wonder what this beautiful lunatic had in store. A little red flag went up in the back of her mind. A man inviting her to follow him into a cave, because he had 'something in here I want you to see' is usually sign of something bad to come. But she'd been with this man, more or less, for ten months, not counting her having seen, been introduced to, and argued with him several times the year before. He was eccentric, and conservative, and, at times, borderline mad, but beneath all his bluster and rhetoric was a simple, gentle man who wanted only to be loved. He went from extremes quickly, but then again so did Homer, and, to a degree, her mother and brother and sister. He suffered from occasional depression, but, then again, she did too. It was hard to be a artist and a genius and not feel alone in Springfield…or in the world.

He lead her into the cave. She flicked her torch about. The floor was sandy, and littered with shells and rotting seaweed. The limestone walls dripped around her. He led her over an embankment and deeper into the cave. The light from the outside grew fainter, a distant speck in the distance. Their torches were their only light. Lisa looked around. Water trickled down from above. The lime was being slowly dissolved. Stalactites hung down from the ceiling.

"No cathedral was ever as beautiful."

"God's creation is the inspiration-man can only hope to mirror it."

Brian chuckled. "Did you get that from one of my lectures or one of my poems?"

"Lectures."

"Ah. This way. Just a little further."

The dark and winding passageways seemed to go on forever. Despite all its ethereal beauty, Lisa began to grow antsy. It was getting pretty monotonous, for one thing. Secondly, she was worried that the encroaching tidal would was away all their belongings, including her saxophone, which she'd had for fifteen years.

All at once she saw light. Blinding, brilliant light from on high. A sinkhole had been opened up, after years of rain and erosion. Midday sunlight streamed down from the distant blue sky.

"Oh, Brian, this is beautiful."

"I knew you'd like it."

Lisa was still looking up out of awe, when she felt Brian take her hand. She looked and saw him sinking to one knee. The look of utter love on his face was one she had only seen on his face at the Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, just as they did when he was walking down the aisle at St. Anthony's, and the choir was singing 'O Come, Let Us Adore Him'.

"Oh-!"

"Lisa…" he gulped, then forced a smile. She could feel his hands were trembling. He reached into hi pocket. He pulled out a small, velvet box. He opened it. Inside was a golden ring. The central stone was an enormous diamond, two carats at the very least, flanked by two red stones red as dove blood. "Will you marry me?"

She smiled, then felt a warm tear slide down her cheek.

"Oh Brian, of course!" she said, half-laughing and half-crying.

He started to stand up. She threw herself at him, peppering his face with giddy kisses. He fell over.

"Ow! Sharp…very very sharp rocks!"

"Oh Brian, I'm so sorry."

"Its alright. But, could you be a dear and help me up?"

She helped him to his feet. He grimaced and held his back.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Certain." He smiled. "Let's get out of here."

They walked out holding each other's hand. When they got back to their things, the water was just a few centimetres away. They packed up their belongings, shaking out the sand and patting off what had been gotten splashed, and started up the cliffs.

It was a long, tiring climb. The sun was low, shinning straight onto their backs. Lisa felt the stinging sweat trickling into her eyes and ears. Her hands sent screaming discomfort up her nerves as she slung to the sharp, jagged rocks. Her saxophone's carrying strap cut into her collar bone. She had tried not to look up for the entire time, knowing that it would only discourage her. After what had seemed to be hours, she dared a glance. They weren't even halfway there. She let out a frustrated groan.

"Come on Lisa. We're halfway there."

Every inch, every millimetre seemed to double the pain. Her arms felt like they were shutting down. Her mind was a dull throb of nerve signals and rapid oxygen-deprivation-induced half-thoughts. She pulled, hand over hand. She closed her eyes, focusing her strained muscles, forcing them to pull, pull, pull! She felt for a ledge, a protruding rock, something to grab. She felt something. She grabbed on to it. To her horror, it began to pull away. She opened her eyes. It was Brian's boot.

"Hey!" he managed to yell between panting breaths.

"Sorry," she answered after a while, the word barely escaping.

Lisa grew numb. Her hands felt as though they were miles away, the feel of the rocks became distant tingling. Her mind felt as though it was closing in. She thought that she wasn't going to make it, that she would fall off the cliff like a dead fly, into the waves below. She forced one last reach. She felt a hand seize her wrist. She saw Brian, leaning precariously over the edge. She lifted a foot, and searched for a ledge. She found one, and put her weight on it. She pushed up. He leaned back, pulling with the full force of his weight. She shot up, and grabbed the ledge of the cliff. She pulled herself up. She crawled across the sparse grass, and collapsed next to Brian. They lied there for some. Time. Slowly, Brian rolled onto his front, and, struggling for a moment, pushed himself up. He got to his feet, swayed for a moment, then took a deep breathe and shook his head.

"Ohhh…I'm dead!" Lisa moaned.

"Let's never do that again."

"Agreed."

"Come on, let's get out of here."

"No, Lisa sleep now."

"You can sleep at the house. Get up, the bugs will bite you."

"No they won't."

"Well they bit me, and I wasn't the one on the anthill."

Lisa's eyes widened. She leapt to her feet, nearly jumping off the cliff. "Ahh! GET THEM OFF! AHH! OW!"

Brian laughed. Lisa looked at him and scowled, and made fist of mock-anger.

Back at the house, Lisa took a bath in the while Brian washed her clothes and called to confirm the dinner reservation and the guest lecture he was scheduled to deliver at the Springfield Chapter Right to Life. Her clothes were just finishing dying when Lisa came out of the bathroom with a towel around herself and a second wrapped around her head. Brian saw her. He did a double-take, surprised to see her like that. He opened the solar-powered dryer, and handed her the still-somewhat damp clothes.

"Here you go."

She smiled. Brian managed a smile, but was a little intimidated. Not wanting to pressure him, she left and got dressed in another room. She came back in, bathed and dressed, feeling fresh and alive.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes." She smiled and hugged him, giving him a quick kiss.

"Where're we eating?"

"The Happy Sumo."

"Will anyone be joining us?"

"No."

She smiled.

"Think of it as a 'celebratory date'."

"Well, knowing what your concept of 'celebration' is, I hope you have some money to call a cab."


	11. The Family Rows

Lisa knocked on the door furiously. Her mother opened the door, looking somewhat surprised to see her.

"Lisa!" Marge rasped, "Hi! What's going on?"

"Mom, Brian and I are getting married!"

Marge stood silent for a moment, mouth open, then screamed.

"OH MY GOD! Oh, Lisa, I can't believe it!"

"I know! Oh my God!"

Marge led her in the in. Eric was in the living room, working on the computer. He had heard part of what they had said.

"What's going on?" he asked in his distinctly Bouvier voice.

"Brian proposed!"

"Wow!"

"Maggie! Maggie!" Marge called up the stairs.

In her room, Maggie was lying on her bed, talking with one of her friends. Annoyed by the intrusion on her precious time alone, she told her friend that her mom was calling her, and hung up. Sighing and rolling her eyes simultaneously, she slumped of her bed and skulked down the hall.

"Maggie!" Marge called again, her voice taking on the slightest hint of aggravation.

Maggie came down the stairs, looking very bored.

"Maggie, guess what! Brian proposed to Lisa!"

Maggie looked at Lisa, raising an eyebrow.

"Cool."

"So, do tell, how'd he ask you?" Eric asked.

"Oh, it was so romantic! He took me down to the beach, and there was this cave there, and at this one spot, where the ceiling opened up and the sunlight came in, he got on one knee and gave me this! And he was crying! He's so sweet!"

"Oh, its just like a fairy tale! I told you all about how Homer proposed…it wasn't quite as nice as that, what with my being three months pregnant and in dire financial straits, but…Oh, my little baby Lisa!"

Maggie rolled her eyes. _Tripe. And I thought that I was the little baby…well, Eric, I guess, is still technically the baby of the family…Oh well, overlooked as always. Smile and pretend to be happy for her._

"Oh, I have to go call Homer! And Patty and Selma-oh! And Grandpa, and Mom, and Herb, and Lenny….!" Marge was giddy with excitement. She ran out of the room to call everyone that she knew.

Maggie sat on the steps, looking smug.

"So, there sharp rocks in the cave?"

"Huh?"

"The cuts on your arms and legs."

"Heh-heh, yeah, I guess."

Maggie smirked. _Heh Heh, yeah. Skank. Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes…knew she'd let loose eventually._ Maggie had perfected the art of packing the most hurt into the fewest words. She'd learned it was the only way.

"So, um, Maggie, how's school?" Lisa said, trying to change the subject.

"Sucks," she stated, rising and retreating back up the stairs. Lisa frowned and murmured.

"Hrrrmmm. So how's life treatin' you, Eric? Arlie Skinner minding his manners?"

"Yeah. There's no reasoning with him, so I just give him plenty of space and stay out of his way. It's the only way weird and unpopular can make it, I've learned."

"Yeah. I found that out pretty early on. Eventually, when you get past the bullying grades, and have defined yourself and your friends, you can just be a rebel or freak or nerd, then they leave you alone pretty much."

"I hate being a freak."

"Eric, don't say that. You're not a freak."

"Yeah, I'm just 'different'."

"No, you're Eric Simpson."

"Thanks Lisa."

In the next room, Marge got through to Homer at work.

"Homer! I have great news! Lisa's getting married!"

"OH MY GOD!"


	12. Alone and Lonely

Alone and Lonely

Millhouse sat alone in his office. On his desk was a picture of Lisa. And another. And another. His walls were covered with her face. Sculptures of Lisa he had made by hand, carefully following 3-D models he had generated on his computer using photos of her from all sides and all angles, sat on his bookshelf. The biggest one he kept at home. He had edited all the songs the Springfield Nine had made, so that her saxophone solos, her bass in the tracks she played the bass guitar, and the rare track she sang stood were louder than all the others. He had a poster of her jazz ensemble on his door, with Brian's face cut out and replaced with his.

"Ahh, Lisa. One day you'll see me. One day, we'll make our love known to the world."

His desk phone lit up with a call. He pressed the button for line one.

"Van Houten, you haven't done your inspection of Sector 7-G for this week. I need those performance evaluations on my desk by the five."

"Yes, Mr. Lenny."

Millhouse took his notepad and his performance evaluation charts and went off to inspect Sector 7-G, which was responsible for more fatal mishaps and near-apocalypses than all the others in the factory combined. Now that most of it was mechanized there were much fewer mistakes, but the possibility of Homer sleeping through a core overheating or accidentally causing a near meltdown by spilling liquefied cheese on a control panel still remained.

The robots were all in order, sorting spent fuel rods and manning the controls of the cooling system. He moved on to check on Homer's control station.

He pressed the door controls. The door slid open with a hiss. Homer was on the phone, talking loudly.

"Hey-hey with the personal phone calls at work, Simpson!"

"But Mr. Millhouse, I just got a call from Marge! Lisa's getting married!"

"Lisa…my one true love."

Millhouse recalled how Lisa grudgingly let him sit next to her at a high school football game. It led to their 'going out' for three weeks. One Friday night after the homecoming game, Millhouse drove them out to the Contraception Overlook (formerly Lovers' Lane) and asked her to marry him.

"Its not you, Millhouse. I just don't think I'll marry anyone."

He broke down crying.

Millhouse shook his head, the memories retreating.

"I think I'll right up your performance now," he growled.

Back at his office, his phone was alight with calls. He pressed the button for line 1.

"Yo, Millhouse. Where are those performance yield charts?"

"I'll have them in tomorrow Mr. Carl."

Line 2

"Yes, Terri?"

"Your father's on Line 3, Mr. Van Houten."

"Tell him I just left on a two-month business trip, and that even if I was in, I wouldn't have any money anyways."

"Yes Mr. Van Houten."

Line 4

"Sherri?"

"Your mother's on Line 5, Mr. Van Houten."

"Tell her I'm out to lunch and that I don't have my cell phone with me."

"Yes Mr. Van Houten."

He turned off his cell phone, knowing that she would call just to make sure.

Maybe I'll go get lunch… Last time I ate a meal I didn't make myself with stuff I bought at the Kwik-E-Mart was last month at Bart's wedding. Lisa didn't dance with me. She hardly noticed me, she spent all time ogling that stupid freaky college guy. I went to college, but no, that wasn't enough for her. She likes lonely, intellectual/romanticist/philosopher types who live alone in spooky Victorian houses. Weirdo. Look at me, I'm twenty-five, with degrees in nuclear engineering and management from the best online universities in the state, I have an apartment and a car, and she just forgets about me like last week's leftovers.  
He sighed. He took out his sack lunch: a thermos of cold coffee and a peanut butter sandwich. He poured the coffee into the canteen lid, and took a sip. The cold, black, acrid coffee made him shiver. The bite-mark on his neck prickled. He brushed it. The t two pairs round scars on his neck formed a rough rectangle. He shuddered, remembering how he had been attacked by a dark creature in the bathrooms at Springfield Elementary School many years before, how he had been taken to the hospital, and how his file was confused with another patient's, leading the papers saying that he had died. It was two months before the mishap was corrected and he was sent home, and was no longer called 'Mr. Milton Van Hutton'.  
He frowned and took a bite of his sandwich. Tastes like bitter defeat. Cold, cruel, bland mediocrity. He threw the sandwich down on the desk and stood. Up. That's it! I've had it! I'm going out to have a decent meal! Screw my monthly budget! He pressed the button for the front desk.  
"Sherri, Terri, hold all my calls, I'm going out to lunch."  
"Yes, Mr. Van Houten."  
"Ah, jeez!" he moaned. His elbow had knocked over his cup of coffee, and it had spilled onto his grey trousers.  
"My only hole-less pair of dress slacks! Oh, hell! I'll buy another!"  
He dabbed his front with a kerchief, getting a little of the coffee up, and headed out to enjoy his lunch. 

His lunch went horribly. The restaurant was crowded, and the hostess said that the waiting time would be at least thirty minutes, but that it would most certainly be longer for him, as he was dining alone. After forty-five minutes he went up to the hostess, only to find that someone had claimed his table. Another five minutes, and he finally got a table, right next to the rest room. As it so happened, one of the toilets backed-up, and that entire section of the restaurant smelt horribly. After waiting half an hour, he was finally waited on, and twenty minutes later, the bored, underwhelmed teenage waiter came back and he finally got his order in. After nearly an hour, he got his meal, but it was not as he ordered it, and was only lukewarm. He waited for the waiter to come back, and, after arguing with him for an inordinate time that it was not as he had ordered it, the waiter rolled his eyes and took it back. A half hour later, it came back, still wrong, though at least it was fairly warm. So warm, in fact, Millhouse burned his hand on the dish. After hailing the waiter for five minutes, he got his attention, and, several minutes and one argument later, the dish was sent back. It came back after another half hour, as Millhouse had ordered it. By that time, Millhouse was far too aggravated to enjoy it. After finishing it as quickly as he could, he got the bill, and found that he was charged with three separate entrées. He got in an argument with his waiter, and was so loud and aggressive that the manager came over, and he ended up getting thrown out of the restaurant and told that they would bill him, and that failure to pay would result in their pressing charges for theft of service and loss of business.

When he finally returned to work, it was almost five. Millhouse rushed to his office, only to be met with Lenny and Carl.

"Where have you been? There was a crisis in sector 3-H and two men had to be hospitalised!"

"One of the intake valves on the cooling system clogged and we nearly had another meltdown! Where the hell were ya?"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Lenardson, Mr. Carlson-I-"

"Answer the question, Van Houten, where were you all this time!"

"You, see, I went to lunch an'-"

"You spent five hours _eating lunch_!"

"Homer never spends more than two hours on a meal, and at least he has the decency to eat them at his station!"

"We got a call from the EPA and you hadn't given us those safety reports yet!"

"But I…!"

"And ya didn't do your worker inspection yet! Thanks to you, Jameson has been rotting in his office for three days now!"

"But, you don't understand, I was, I-"

"Oh, 'I, I, I'. This is all about you, isn't it, Van Houten?"

"Yes, but no, uh, er, um-"

"Millhouse Van Houten, you're fired!"

"…fired?"

"You can pack up your stuff and leave. Get out by closing time."

"We get to keep anything you don't have outta here by five."

"But its almost five now!"

"Better hurry!"

Millhouse grabbed all that he could. He was just about to pick up his stereo, and had barely begun to wonder if he'd have time to take two trips, when Lenny came in.

"Out! Now!"

"Can't I just-?"

"NOW!"

"…yessir."

He slouched out of his office. He reached his executive parking place, and found it empty. A note on the ground said that it had been towed.

"Son of a-!" he began. He turned and saw a car pulling into the parking place. He barely managed to hop out of its spot.

"Sorry, didn't see you there!" the driver apologized.

Thelonious! Another one of those who've one Lisa's heart! I hate them all! 

"Hello, Thelonious."

"Hello Millhouse."

"Where were you all day?"

"Oh, I was in conference with Professor Frink and the EPA, discussing the possibility of federal funding of an new experimental cold fusion reactor. I was just on my way back when I received an e-mail from Mr. Lennardson, saying that I was now assistant vice-president of the plant. Wasn't that your job, old bean?"

"It…was."

"Oh dear. That's ever so unfortunate. Well, you're young, you've still got your looks and your health, you'll bounce back."

"Thanks," he growled. He didn't feel thankful_. Looks and health! Like Hell do I. Look at you, your Italian leather shoes and your tailored three-piece suit…_

"Well, must be off! I need to brief the others on what happened at the meeting, and see if Mr. Lennardson was really serious. Who knows, maybe he'll give you your job back?"

"Whatever, bye."

"Farewell, Millhouse."

I hate that guy… 

Millhouse tried to hail a cab, but no one seemed to notice him. _I'm invisible._

He reached the impound yard, but it was closed. He'd have to stop by first thing in the morning.

Seventeen blocks from the auto yard he came to his apartment. The elevator was broken, so he had to climb twelve flights of stairs to reach his thirteenth storey apartment. He opened the door. It was dark, the only light the flickering blue of a TV screen. A pizza box lay on the floor, next to several dozen empty beer cans. His roommate, Barry Miller, biological son of Barney Gumble, was passed out on the couch in his underwear. Millhouse looked around and picked up a broom. He prodded Barry in his flabby shoulder with the handle.

"C'mon, Barry. You're late for your shift."

"Huh? What? It's seven o'clock already?" he mumbled, slowly rising and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He took a swig of stale Duff from the can he had left half-finished from his 'breakfast' five hours earlier. He hopped up, and staggered off to the bedroom. He came back a few minutes later in his security guard outfit.

"Well, I'm off. I'll bring back some Thai food."

"Oh, no, don't. That stuff always gives me indigestion, Barry."

"But what other place is open? I had pizza for breakfast, and we had Shakespeare's chicken for dinner last night, Krusty Burgers the night before!"

"I dunno, just get whatever. Anything but Thai food."

"Sure thing. Oh, my half-sister Bernice and her brother Bernie are coming over tomorrow. And so's my dad, and his mom. Hope ya don't mind."

"No, not at all…"

"Okay. See ya later!" And with a belch, he was gone.

Millhouse did mind that company was coming over. He'd have to clean the house, which would only end up filthier than it was before, and buy the food with his own money, and cook it, and serve it. _And now I'm unemployed. I need to find another job. Just temporary, until they come to their senses down there at the plant. That stupid Thelonious won't last two weeks._ He was distracted from his musings by a cockroach that scuttled up his arm,

"AHH!" he screamed, shaking it off. He watched it, along with several others, scuttle around the floor, looking for a dark crevice to hide. _I'm gonna have to get some roach traps and some spray_, he thought.


	13. A Trip To LA

A Trip Down To L.A.

Lisa rested her head on Brian's shoulder as they rolled along. She was tired, she wanted to sleep, needed it for the big day ahead of them. But the blaring music, the rattling of the old bus, and the chattering going on all around her made sleep impossible. She lifted her head and yawned. Brian turned smiled at her. She stretched, yawning again. She shook her head.

"Where are we?"

"Gorman overpass. Should be at the studio in two hours or so."

"Ah…crap," she groaned, her head in her hands, eyes clenched shut.

"You alright? Need some aspirin?"

"Nah. Would be good to sleep though."

" 'fyou want I can get up and let you lie down."

"Really?"

"Anything for you."

"Thanks."

"And I'll see if I can get Otto to turn down the noise a bit."

"You're great."

Brian opened the curtains and stood up. He saw Lisa's legs stick out from the seat.

"Hey Otto-man, could you crank down the tunes a titch? Lisa's trying to sleep."

"Huh!"

"Could you please turn it down?"

"Oh, sure thing, man."

He turned the volume down.

"Thanks."

"No problem…killjoy."

Brian went to see what the others were doing. He sat and talked with Jessica, Burke, and Allison, who were playing a game of Egyptian War. Brian joined in, and proceeded to lose each time for the next three games he played.

Brian went and sat by himself for a while, reading a novel he had picked up for the trip. It was Timothy Zahn's "Star Wars: Survivor's Quest". He didn't like it much, but it kept him busy. Though he was quite a bit of a fan of 'Star Wars', and even managed to watch all three prequels, he still was disappointed with the poor quality of the writing. _He used the same phrase two pages ago, and used the same description of Luke's lightsaber in the very same flippin' chapter!_ He set it down after a few chapters. He went over to see what movie Bart and the others were watching. _Old School..never did like it_.

They arrived in Los Angeles just in time to be stuck in morning-rush traffic. After another hour, they escaped from the freeway and were in the city. Another half hour and they were finally at the recording studio.

They gathered their instruments and piled off. They rushed in, ignoring the frustrated managers and studio operators.

"Is Elfman here already?" Bart asked one of the managers.

"He's _been_ here for _half an hour_!"

"Good, he's had time to prepare himself."

They found Mr. Elfman waiting outside the recording room, having a coffee and danish.

"Hey guys," he said, washing down a mouthful with bad coffee, "Took you so freakin' long?"

"Traffic. Plus our bus driver kept getting pulled over. I've never had to bribe _so_ many cops!"

"You had Otto drive you all the way from Springfield?"

"What can I say? I'm a risk taker. Okay, just let us get tuned up a bit and we'll be ready to go. Is the horns section here yet?"

"I guess. They showed up early. They nearly left, but then they heard you were just pulling in to the parking lot."

"Okay, you heard him, let's get ready people!"

After a few minutes to tune up their instruments and apologize to the horns section they had hired, they were ready.

"Okay guys, since Elfman's here, we're gonna' make use of him. 'Dead Man's Party', take one!"

They had lots of fun with the song, playing with different versions of it until they came to one that they agreed was original enough but remained true to the spirit of it. They moved on to 'Mary', and then 'Noise Machine', an original that Brian and Bart had co-wrote (meaning Brian wrote it while Bart rambled on about how cool it would be if there would be more explosions in it) as a tribute to Oingo-Boingo. Elfman stayed for a while, but had to leave. He stayed to hear them play 'Nightmare on Evergreen Terrace', which Bart and Lisa had based on their childhood nightmares. He told them it was pretty good, but had to leave before he could hear any more.

The group recorded a few more tracks, including 'Black Crow', and the companion song, 'White Crow', before they broke for lunch. They drove around for a while before finding Palermo's, and little longer before they found a parking place the bus could fit in.

It was a Tuesday, and Palermo's was usually closed on Tuesdays. But, as they had called in, they decided to open just for them.

They were greeted graciously at the door, and escorted to a banquet table they had laid out for them. They ordered a pizza, and Lisa and Brian ordered pasta, as the rest of the group would not consent to vegetarian pizza. They laughed, and ate and drank and had a grand old time. Steve noticed that they had only ten minutes to get back to the studio, so they handed the owner a few hundred dollar bills, thanked him swiftly, then raced back to the bus.

They barely made it back to the studio. They had to wait because Mac needed to use the restroom. They set back to recording. They did 'Night on Bald Mountain' which Brian Mac had rewritten slightly for the group's style, then 'Damnation of a Nation', the title track for their spooky-themed album due for October. They took a break while they waited for the strings section to arrive, then worked on 'Requiem for a Sinner' and 'Mother', which Brian had wrote himself. They then did 'I Saw It' a chilling spoken-word track that Lisa had written, then launched into a re-tooled version of 'Welcome to My Nightmare', and then 'Super Freak'. Lisa took over playing the bass for Brian while he sang. She loved the way he sang the song. He had told her once that it was one of his 'all-time favourites'. His facial expressions as he sang were nearly made her break out in laughter for the first three takes. Though he didn't mind (she had confided to him once his over-the-top faces and actions while singing were one of the many little things she liked about him) the others sure did. Knowing the others were getting annoyed was enough to keep her from laughing while they finally got the track recorded. Their session ended on a cheery note with rousing playing of 'Ghostbusters'.

After their session was over, the group wanted to go shopping at Circuit City Plaza. Lisa asked if Otto could drop Brian and her off at Cedar-Sinai first.

"Okay."

"Good luck!"

"Heh, thanks…" Lisa chuckled. She walked off with Brian into the hospital.


	14. An Unpleasant Encounter

An Unpleasant Encounter

Lisa walked into the women's toilets. She was in a hospital gown. The doctor had requested a urine sample as part of the physical. As she rounded the corned to the stalls, she encountered someone whom she did not expect to see.

"Millhouse!" she gasped, dropping the sample cup.

"Hi Lisa," he said in eerie deadpan. He took a few steps, forward, arms hanging limply by his side, his face expressionless. "I heard that he proposed."

Lisa took a step back.

"Did he?"

She took a few steps backwards.

"He did…. and I suppose you said 'yes', now didn't you?"

"Millhouse…"

"You…_how could you do this to me_?"

"Millhouse, listen…"

"All my life…all I ever wanted…was you, Lisa! I've had to live with…my parents splitting up, my dad going to jail, living…with my crazy grandmother…I nearly got killed, trying to save you and your family from Mr. Burns…I…I ha-I got turned down for your band because I couldn't cut it…and I got fired…and now this…you…!"

"Millhouse, please, you're really upset-"

"The hell I am!" he screeched. He began hyperventilating, drawing rapid, hissing breaths through his clenched teeth.

He advanced on her, teeth bared like a rapid wolf. He reached out to grab her. She slapped him, knocking his glasses askew. He turned his head to face her, glasses still sideways. He took them off, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose, then put them on again. He lunged at her, grabbing her arm. With her lightning-fast reflexes and prana-bindu focus, Lisa kneed him right in the groin. He flinched, stunned by the pain. She shoved him away. Millhouse fell to the floor, but recovered from the pain, and began to charge. Lisa kicked him in the side of the face, sending him right into the sinks. His head slammed against them, and he crumpled over, unconscious.

Lisa raced out, her partially undone gown flying behind her.

"Help! Help!"

A nurse came and stopped her.

"What's happened? Are you alright, Sugar?"

"There was a man, in the women's restroom…he tried to attack me…he's still in there I think. He tried to grab me and pin me against the wall…I think I knocked him out," she rambled, mad with fright, tears in her eyes.

"Don't worry," the nurse said. She walked over to a counter and told the nurse to call security. "Don't worry. I called security, they'll be up any minute now."

"Don't go away. He still might come after me!"

"Now, stay calm, ma'am-"

"You don't understand! I know him! He's been obsessed with me since we were kids! I though it was just a stupid crush, but he's gone from love-stuck, pathetic nerd longing after an unattainable girl to a crazed, freaky stalker!"

"Now, calm down. You'll be okay."

Three security officers showed up shortly. Before they could ask a single question, they saw Millhouse, his face bleeding, his glasses broken, come around the corner. When he saw them, he let out a yell like howler monkey on PCP and came charging at them. The officers rushed to stop him. One put out his hand to stop him, but Millhouse batted the arm out of the way and clocked the man across the face. Another tried to hit him with his baton, but Millhouse ducked and knocked his feet from under him. He charged again, the third officer standing between him and Lisa. The officer drew his capuscin spray and blasted Millhouse in the face. Bellowing like a steer, Millhouse tackled him, and began to smash his face blindly. The second officer had recovered by this time, and rushed over with his taser. He zapped Millhouse, dropping him to the ground. With the other officer's help, he handcuffed Millhouse. As they hauled him away, he began to scream and wail.

"Why Lisa? Why?"

Lisa began to cry.

As they forced him onto the elevator, he managed one last yell.

"I hate you!"


	15. Meet the Callahans

Thanksgiving

It had turned out to be a particularly wet and dreary November. But, as gloomy as the weather became, the Simpsons' spirits were high. 'Damnation of a Nation' was an unprecedented success, registering in the top ten album sales for four weeks, and reaching number one by Halloween week. Online downloads of the individual songs, the most popular being 'Dead Man's Party', followed closely by an online exclusive track 'Billion Dollar Babies'. All in all, the album was a success, and they considered trying to capitalize on its success with a re-hashing the next year.

Considering what had been happening the previous October, and that they had been recovering in hospital last November, things were fairly peaceful. Brian and Lisa continued planning and scheming about their marriage. Lisa almost regretted telling everyone about their engagement the day that he proposed, as she had nothing to look forward to until February. Yet her schedule was far from empty. She had an album to record with Brian for their jazz side-project, and songs to write for the Springfield Nine's next two albums, due out in mid-January and late-March. She there were also the matters of Thanksgiving, Brian's Birthday, Christmas, and New Years, and all that those ever-hectic holidays entailed. The wedding, though still a few months away, needed planning. Lisa decided that she wanted a small wedding, nothing nearly as extravagant as Bart and Jessica's, just family and friends, no press, and a simple reception at the family home. Lisa decided that it would be best if it weren't catered: her mother was used to preparing large amounts of food, and would be all too happy to prepare enough for thirty or so guests.

And then, there was the matter of Millhouse. Though her family had suggested getting a restraining order, Bart suggested giving him 'some face time with Mr. Fist', and Martin Prince said that it would be proper for Brian to challenge Millhouse to an honour duel, she and Brian had decided it would be best to let him be. The poor man was on the edge, so to speak, and anything drastic would push him over the brink of madness. It wasn't his fault that he was neither very strong, very smart, or very good-looking, that his parents hated each other, or that he had been sacked. Yet nothing justified his constant late-night phone calls, his burning his name on Brian's lawn, and his obscene letters written in red lipstick. Brian reasoned that he deserved fair warning, and if he caused any trouble, they would be justified in defending themselves. Still, Lisa was troubled. She felt sorry for Millhouse, that is, until she thought of his stalkerish obsession with her, and how he tried to…either kill her or attack her or…rape her in the hospital restroom. _Poor, sad, pitiful little man!_

As the month rolled along, Brian asked Lisa something he had been planning to ask her for some time.

"Lisa…?"

"Yes?"

"Lisa, I've known your family for some time now, and I've gotten to know them quite well. You know me, romantic I am, I've always felt it important that a man have the approval of a woman's family, especially her parents and especially her father. But you haven't met my family yet. And as they're just staying home this Thanksgiving, I thought it would be nice if you could meet them for Thanksgiving dinner."

Lisa smiled, but it was a smile that other thoughts tugged down at the corners. She had wanted to have Thanksgiving with her family. It was Bart and Jessica's first Thanksgiving as a married couple. And the previous year's had been dampened by the fact that they had all just barely escaped death at the hands of the unholy UnDead. _It'd be nice to have a quiet, normal…wait…since when is anything at the Simpson house quiet or normal?_

"Sure. It'd be nice to meet your family. They live in state, right?"

"Yeah, about a two-hour drive away."

"Okay."

Lisa later told her family.

"But Lisa! Thanksgiving is for family!"

"But Brian's like a part of our family, and thus, so is his family!"

"Hrrrmmm…Its just that we've always had Thanksgiving together. I don't want to break with tradition."

"Mom, its important to Brian that I get to know his family, and if its important to him, then its important to _me_."

Marge smiled.

"Oh, okay."

"Don't worry, I'll be here for Christmas and New Year's."

"Damn well better," Homer growled, "I need someone to talk to. Eric doesn't talk much, Maggie spends all her time sulking, Grandpa doesn't make any sense, Bart and Jessica are only interested in each other, and you can just forget even trying to talk to any of Marge's family!"

"What about me?" asked Marge.

"But I talk to _you_ all the time! If I wanted to talk to you I'd take you out to dinner by ourselves!"

"Then why don't you?"

"Fine!…D'oh!"

"Gilded Truffle, tonight," Marge said victoriously, kissing him on the cheek as she walked out of the room, "And you have to get a baby sitter."

"Grr…"

Brian and Lisa left after breakfast on the day before Thanksgiving. Brian's parents lived in Springton, a small town out in the country. The drive took four hours, due in part to meal and bathroom stops. They arrived late in the afternoon.

Lisa was pleased by the sight of Springton. It had the feel of a typical rural, 1950's village. She noted the population as they crossed the city limit: 15,371. She took in the broad, tree-lined streets, the small shops and stores, and the outdated automobiles. The air had the glow of a dusty old house at sunset as the golden-red rays of the dieing sun illuminated the brick and timber town.

The businesses grew fewer, the houses larger, older, and more dispersed. Here and there, Lisa saw where nature was struggling to reclaim land. The grass grew tall and wild, and the trees taller and more numerous. She rolled down her window, and sniffed the brisk air. _Birch…pine…running water…_She became aware of how low the sun was on the horizon. Brian noticed as well, and instinctively reached for the rear view mirror, pulling down the rosary he had wrapped around it, letting the crucifix hang down.

As the sun passed below the horizon, they arrived at the Callahan homestead. It was an old farmhouse, built in the late forties between the wars. Lisa noted the rows of orange trees, their branches heavy with plump fruits.

"Orange farmers."

Lisa smirked.

"So that's why you picked that old house out in the orange groves."

A screen door slammed. Lisa saw what looked a like a Hobbit come stomping out from the house, arms spread wide. As he grew nearer, Lisa recognized the strange creature as Brian's brother Ben, who suffered from Down Syndrome. He was a short, round little man, his face round and pudgy, his eyes sleepy. His bare feet flapped about, slapping the ground flatly. He smiled joyously.

"Bwian!" he called, his dull voice filled with joy.

"Benny!" Brian laughed, opening his arms and hugging his little brother. After a long hug, Brian pulled back and gestured toward Lisa. "Benny, this is Lisa, my friend."

"Hi," said Lisa, waving nervously. She didn't know quite how to react to this strange little person. She felt strange, a combination of revulsion, pity, curiosity, and awe. Ben buried his face in his brother's shoulder, closing his eyes. He opened one only slightly, looking at Lisa.

"He's a little shy. C'mon, Ben, this is Lisa, my friend, she's wanted to meet you for a along time!"

Ben opened both eyes and looked at Lisa, blinking dramatically. He pulled away from Brian and held his arms out at Lisa. Brian urged her to hug him using one of the signing languages they knew. Lisa hugged him, reluctantly at first, but then grew comfortable.

"Aww…" Ben said, swaying back and forth in the embrace. They pulled apart. Ben looked up at Lisa, his sleepy eyes taking her features in. "Girl…" he said plainly.

"Yeah, I'm a girl," Lisa replied without sarcasm. Ben reached up and felt her spiky hair.

"Ow, that hurts!" he cried, pulling back his hand and cradling it.

"Oh! I'm sorry-!"

"Ow! Don't, Ben!" Ben yelled at no one. Lisa looked to Brian. With a twitching of his fingers, he explained in sign how Ben said that often because he had heard it so often in his life. She nodded.

The screen door slammed again. A man and a woman, both in their early sixties, were coming from the house. Seeing them, Ben rushed back and into the house. The man looked at his wife, nodded, and followed Ben back in. The old woman came up.

"Oh, Brian! Its so good to see you again!" she said, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi, Ma," he said, kissing her on her cheek, "Ma, this is Lisa Simpson, Lisa, this is me Ma."

"Hi, Mrs. Callahan."

"Oh, call me 'June'. Its nice to finally see you Lisa. Brian's told me a lot about you."

"Thanks…June." said Lisa. She noticed her eyes widen, and saw that she was looking at her engagement ring. "Oh, do you like it?"

"Its beautiful…" she said, her voice carrying awe, envy, and disapproval. Lisa maintained her smile. "So, come inside, we'll figure out where we'll go for dinner.

Inside, they found Ben sitting in front of the television, watching The Wiggles. Brian's father, a man in his fifties, sat on the couch. He had thinning grey hair and a bushy white moustache. Seeing them return from outside, he stood.

"Brian!" he laughed, taking his son in a tight hug and rocking him back and forth. "And you must be Lisa."

"Hi," she said, a touch intimidated by his gregariousness. He promptly pulled her into a hug. She noticed it was a lot less enthusiastic, and he broke it off almost immediately, feeling her discomfort.

"Well, I guess you must be tired and hungry. Don, what's the plan for dinner?"

"EEEEEEAi-UP" Ben yelled. He held up one hand and counted the nights coming events off on his fingers. "Eat! Noonoos!"

"What did he say?"

"'Noonoos'," Brian explained, "It means 'noodles', or 'pasta'. Benny's very picky, and his severe food allergies make finding food for him even more difficult. Well, is Rosa's still open?"

"Yes, very much so."

"But not tonight. It's Monday, they're closed on Mondays."

"Tokyo Bowl? I mean, I liked it, Ben still likes it, right? Chinese noonoos?"

"Yeah!" Ben laughed enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together and drooling slightly.

"Brian, you know I never liked that place!"

"Mom, you just ordered wrong, once, fifteen bloody years ago!"

"It got a '95' on the last Health Inspection! They've never had above a '97'!"

"Junie, please, Rosa's gets '97's and '96's all the time!"

"But never a '92'!

"Ma, that was _back _in '92! Get with the program!"

"Besides, aren't you vegetarian?" Brian's dad asked Lisa.

"We both are." Brian answered promptly. Lisa looked at him in surprise. She noticed that his family was doing the same, except for Ben, who was staring blithely into space, humming slightly.

"Since when?" Brian's dad asked, "You used to tear into every thing that had meat in it! At barbecues you'd eat three burgers! You never touched a salad in your life."

"Well, its give and take, you know, Dad. I mean, she embraced my Catholicism and rabid conservatism, and I embraced her fierce environmentalism and humourless vegetarianism."

"Hmm…"

"If vegetarians eat vegetables, what do humanitarians eat?" June asked.

They all stared at her in shocked disgust.

"Callahan humour. You'll grow numb to it eventually."

"Well, I've been pretending to laugh at you for more than a year, haven't I?"


	16. My Dinner With The Callahans

My Dinner With The Callahans

They drove to dinner in the family suburban. Lisa noted the numerous coffee stains, and the slight odour of ketchup. _Still, it's cleaner than any of my family's cars_.

Ben tapped his brother on the shoulder. Brian looked. Ben was silently counting off on his fingers, and looking up in anticipation.

"Let's see, we'll eat dindin, go for ride, take a bath, and go to bed."

"Eat dindin, go ri'e, bap, sleep," Ben said, counting each item off on his stubby fingers.

"He likes to know the plan. He's a creature of routine."

Lisa nodded. She felt her sympathy for Brian's parents rising. _The effort they put into feeding and clothing and bathing this poor little creature, day after day…_She also understood Brian's adamant defence of the disabled in the face of those who saw them as 'worthless' and 'better off euthanized'. She saw how much he loved his little brother, how he had really forsaken part of his childhood for him, and how he all at once wished that he could have had a normal brother to play with and teach, and how he, at the same time, would have his brother no other way.

They arrived at Tokyo Bowl. It was a small restaurant on the corner of one of the small shopping centres that had sprung up in the town over the last few years. They got out, and entered. They were promptly greeted by a short, elderly Asian woman, who lead them to one of the twenty or so tables in the restaurant. They sat down, and Lisa watched in puzzlement as Brian and his parents began to remove everything except a fork and a napkin from Ben's reach.

"So he doesn't Te-Hache-Ere-Oh-Double Ve quelque chose," Brian explained, mish-mashing English and French, in addition to spelling out the key word, so that Ben would not understand and proceed to do what they intended to prevent him from doing.

They got an order of spring rolls as an appetizer. Ben ate nearly half of them. Lisa and Brian decided to each order vegetable curry and split an order of vegetarian sushi, while June ordered a chicken salad and Donald got the spicy shrimp rolls.

After dinner, Brian's family took them on a tour of Springton. They showed them the city hall, the museum, the church, the post office, and the first of what they feared would be many Starbucks. They got coffee, tea, and biscuits at the privately owned coffee shop across the street.

"Damn Starbucks," the old man at the counter grumbled, looking across the street at the glowing sign and the crowded shop beneath it. He looked around the nearly empty coffee shop. "We're closin' down at the end of this year. They're gonna put another Starbucks right here. Across the street from another one, for chrissakes! And they're putting a drive-through one on near the on-ramp to the free way!"

"Why don't you refuse to sell to them?" Lisa asked, switching into 'activist mode'.

"Eh, already have. Need to think about myself in my old age, you know. Can't keep this up forever, and with business going as it has for the last three years. I guess it's the way its gotta' be."

"Corporations are evil," Brian muttered.

"Too true. Its like you said, 'anything that thinks, acts, and has a will, but is not human, is evil'."

"One evil human being is not nearly as bad as a whole corporate boardroom filled with them."

"Well, not always. Mr. Burns, for example…EXON, Microsoft, and Disney combined can't equal how evil he was."

"Wasn't he the head of the Springfield Power Plant?"

"Yes. Richest man in Springfield, and in the county, only the second richest man in the state and sixteenth richest man in the country, and that was without all the property he had under trusts and corporations he controlled, or owned under dead people's names. He owned a quarter of the private property in town, was on the board of Springfield U, and controlled the police, the mayor, and the city council."

"He's dead now, isn't he?"

"Yes," Lisa said hesitantly.

Back at the house, they unpacked their belongings and carried them to guesthouse.

"Ah, the old guest house!" Brian said. He collapsed to the gound, coughing, and took out his inhaler. "Pretty dusty. Guess that Ma and Da haven't had guests for some time."

Lisa scoped-out their surroundings. "They seem to have prepared for us, though. The beds are freshly made, the shower smells of cleaner, and there's a brand-new TV with cable in the den."

"Aw, that was so kind of them." Brian said. He coughed violently, then took another puff of his inhaler. "Man, that's good."

They opened the windows, turned on the fans, and unpacked and activated the Ironic Err ionic air purifier. Some dusting, some sweeping, a touch of vacuuming, and an hour and a half later, the house was fresh and clean. After cleaning, they took their bags into the bedroom.

Lisa noticed two beds, each on the other side of the room.

"I guess they didn't intend for us to be sleeping together."

"Like we ever do anything other than sleep," Lisa said, some of her bitterness on the matter escaping in her voice. Brian, trained to detect such unintentional reveals, heard it.

"Lisa, darling, we've discussed this many times."

"What!" she snapped.

"Look, I'm sorry, but you know my views on it. Physical Intimacy has its place only within marriage. I'd be committing as big a sin as if I were to engage in homosexual acts."

Lisa sighed.

"Please dear. Do you really want it to be here, to be now? In my parents house…guest house…like sneaky children? Do you want it to be something you'll be ashamed of if we're caught, something that you'll regret years later when we _are_ married? Do you want me to do something I feel is a terrible mortal sin? Do you want to do something that hurtful to me?"

Lisa shook her head.

"I'm sorry Brian."

"Nothing to be sorry for. I know how you feel. I love you too."

He kissed her. She smiled a tired smile.

"Philosopher through and through," she said, shaking her head.


	17. Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving Day

Lisa woke up the next morning to Brian shaking her gently by the shoulder.

"Lisa. Come'on Love, i's time to get up."

"Ohhh…" she groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over her head.

"C'mon, don't make me bring Quawky in here."

"Huh?"

"Quawky."

"Who's Quawky?"

"ER-ER-e-EROOOOOO!"

"_That_ is Quawky."

"Ohhh…what time is it?" Lisa said as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"Five forty."

"Five for-Brian! Why are we getting up so early?"

"Breakfast, of course. Come, get dressed. Don't where anything that you don't want to get dirty. We have to take care of the animals. You can clean up and maybe get a little more sleep after that."

"What animals?"

Lisa pulled on a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt, and, after looking at the cold, misty morning outside, a pink jumper.

There were, indeed, several animals to care for. The chickens were the first. The Callahans had three separate chicken pens. The egg layers, White Leghorns, Araucanas, Americanas, Rhode Island Reds, and plump, friendly Barred Rock hens, were kept penned only at night, and were allowed to free-range around the ranch during the day. Lisa helped Brian fill the feed bins they provided for them, and freshened the automatic waterers while Brian scattered cracked corn and ground oyster shells for them to scratch at. They collected the eggs from the nesting boxes they had lying around the ranch, and then showed her where the meat chickens were kept in individual cages. Lisa was disgusted by the idea, and even more so by the sight of weighing scales and 'killing cones' that the chickens were placed in to be killed.

"It's much more humane than you'd think, Lis. Once the chickens reach or exceeded the desired weight, they're rendered unconscious with carbon dioxide. So far, I think we're the only place that uses the asphyxiation method instead of zapping them with electricity. Then, they're placed upside down in the cone, and their jugular veins and carotid arteries are severed with a scalpel. Gravity and blood pressure to the rest. It is pretty quick, as the brain ceases to function once deprived of oxygenated blood. Once the brain stops, the heart stops. It takes less than a minute, and the animal is never awake for it. The animal remains is hung outside until the blood has drained, and is then plucked, gutted, and dressed. My family raises these guys more for sale than for themselves, though they do eat them instead of the chicken at the store."

Lisa was looking at the chickens during his entire explanation, and did her best to not hear. She looked at the chickens, their dull, stupid eyes. They lacked the light and fire the laying hens' had. Their mouths were ever open, and they moved slowly and awkwardly.

"Not the brightest bulbs on the tree, aren't they?"

"No. They've been bred for one purpose. I guess, as with people, the more muscular, the dimmer."

"Hmmm…"

"They're actually certified organic. We feed them all-natural feed, free from genetically modified grains and animal proteins, and use no pesticides in or around their pens. No growth hormones, antibiotics, or steroids. These are perfectly green chooks."

They fed the meat chickens, giving them a special blend of feed and cracked corn, carefully measured out in a measuring cup. Lisa secretly gave them less than the usual, hoping that eating a little less would prolong their lives.

After that they let the show chickens out into their covered 'day pen' where they could roam and forage without the threat of predators, and gave them fresh feed and water. Brian saw Quawky, their prized bantam Cochin rooster, sneezing, and added some antibiotics to their water. They went down to the pond, which had been made by diverting part of a nearby stream into a basin, and put fresh food and drinking water out for the ducks and the geese. They then fed the dogs, big, black, shaggy dogs, and let them out of their kennels to run around and terrorize the chickens. They then watched Ben while Mr. Callahan groomed their horses and Mrs. Callahan milked the cows. Ben stood on the rails of the fence and laughed as he watched the horses run out into the misty pasture, jumping and bucking and rolling about.

"Is that all?" an exhausted, mud and faeces-covered Lisa gasped.

"Yep," Mrs. Callahan said, lugging the pails of milk.

Lisa showered and got dressed. She wore her nicer pair of jeans with light blue blouse and a grey jacket. Brian wore a striped polo and khakis, and his faded old jacket.

After a hearty breakfast of bacon, fresh eggs, fresh milk, soymilk, orange juice, Cheerios, and oatmeal (Brian and Lisa politely refusing the bacon and taking soymilk instead of regular milk) the preparations for the feast began. Donald had put the turkey in the oven before breakfast, but it needed periodic checking and re-basting. Mr. Callahan also helped to prepare the turkey giblet dressing, preparing one batch with apple slices and raisins, and another, plain batch.

Brian and Lisa helped Mrs. Callahan with the non-turkey dishes. There were potatoes to be peeled for mashed potatoes, yams to be peeled for candied yams, green beans to be cut and steamed, fruit to be washed and peeled and cut for fruit salad, cranberries to boil, corn bread to bake, and onions to be prepared.

"What are the onions for June?" Lisa asked.

"Onion soup. Oh, its an old family recipe. My mother, June O'Shee, her maiden name was De Montblanc. She came from France, and this is-"

"An…old family recipe?"

"Yes…yes exactly."

"It has milk in it, right?"

"Yes, normally. Are you allergic to dairy, like we are?"

"You're allergic to dairy products?"

"Well, I am, Ben is severely, and Brian is a bit too. Don isn't, though."

"Well, I'm not allergic, its just that I feel the dairy industry is well, monstrous, and that it isn't right to drink milk that nature intended for baby cows."

"Well, yes. Anyway, Donald and my mother aren't allergic, nor are Sisters Cecilia and Patrick."

"Who are they?"

"Oh, old friends of my mothers. Nuns from the island of Tonga."

"Oh, cool. I actually learned a little Tonganese."

"You don't say? Anyway, I'm making a dairy batch and a non-dairy batch. It might taste a bit off though, with soymilk."

Ben sat the in front of the television all morning, watching 'Star Wars'.

"He really likes 'Star Wars'," Lisa commented, sitting on the couch with Brian, watching Ben mouth the lines and act out the fight scenes by himself.

"Sure does. Watched them ever since he was a kid. He nearly flipped when he saw them in theatres."

"Does he like the newer ones?"

"Well, kind of. He sat through them in theatres several times each, and he really liked the third one, because it has Darth Vader, but he had a hard time figuring out how they fit in, without Luke or Leia or Han Solo or…" he said, stopping because Ben had come over. "What is it, Benny?"

"Coo-bah-caw?"

"Chewbacca the Wookie!"

"RRROOOAAARRR!" Ben growled, grabbing Brian and wrestling with him on the floor. Lisa pulled back a bit, but, after repeating the question-response-growl-wrestling routine several times, they broke it up and Ben recommenced staring blankly at the screen, only to start making explosion noises and sound effects during the battle sequences.

Brian's grandma and her friends arrived around one thirty in the afternoon. They sat around for a while, drinking champagne and eating salted nuts, nougats, and toffees. The nuns entertained them with tales of their life on Tongatabu, eating meals cooked over hot coals in banana leaves, fishing in the warm, blue seas, going to school in a one-room missionary school, listening to stories in the firelight, celebrating annual festivals, and how, one morning, they awoke to a mighty roar and discover a new island rising from the sea. Both Lisa and Brian impressed them with their knowledge of the Tongan language. Brian's grandma, while thankful for the lovely gifts she had received and proud of her grandchild's financial success, she was critical of the lyrics and thematic content of some of The Springfield Nine's songs.

"Wasn't like that when I was young. Now, you two have another thing you're doing, this jazz side project? Now that's good music. You're the one who does the saxophone, correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Amazing! What you do…its incredible. You write most of the songs too, don't you dear?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

Dinner was finally ready around four o'clock. Everyone sat down in the dinning room around the crowded table. The air was thick with the smell of good food.

"Lisa, would you like to say grace?" Mr. Callahan asked.

"Er…sure," Lisa said cautiously. Brian had told her earlier how he had, conveniently, forgotten to even mention that Lisa was still semi-Buddhist and only Catholic in the sense she was in love with one. Brian had told her, before they arrived, that they would be studying her behaviour to determine her fidelity to the Faith. Though not as nearly as fervent as Brian, they were still fairly devout, and would scarcely approve of Brian's engagement to a Greek Orthodox Catholic, even less so a Protestant, even less so a Jew, and even less so a girl who had been raised Protestant, became Buddhist, and was now a semi-agnostic, semi-New Age Buddhist, albeit one with increasing love and appreciation for the Catholic Church. Brian, fortunately for all involved, had prepared her.

"In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Bless us, O Lord, in these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from Thy Bounty, through Christ, Our Lord, Amen. In the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

She let out an audible sigh of relief. She was glad that she remembered the entire thing.

The remainder of the meal passed without incident. Lisa enjoyed the corn bread, potatoes, yams, green beans, fruit salad, onion soup, and tofurky with cranberries. Brian and the others enjoyed their meals. Lisa watched as Brian ate helping after helping of the dressing. She remembered that he had once said that it was his favourite food. _I'll have to get that recipe, if I'm going to be cooking for him_.

They returned to the sitting room for dessert and coffee. The nuns told a few more stories about their native country, and Brian's grandmother told a few of her own stories, which took overly long due to her constant remembering of other, unrelated anecdotes, and her degrading short-term memory. She frequently remembered songs from her youth, but only knew, at most, the chorus and part of one of the verses.

After an hour or so of chatting the guest left. Lisa stayed inside and helped Mrs. Callahan with the dishes while the boys went and put the animals in for the night. Lisa tried her best to learn the most about her mother-in-law to be, while trying to endear herself to the woman.

The couple said goodnight to the Callahans and went back to the guest house. They showered and prepared for bed.

Lisa came out of the bathroom, and found Brian sitting on the foot of his bed. He sat, his hands barely touching, staring at the floor.

"Brian…? Brian, honey, are you okay?"

"I'm…I…just give me some…time…? I'm, I, I'm sorry. I just, you know," and gesticulated frustratedly, "hit…a little low point. I'm fine."

Lisa sat down next to him. She set her head on his shoulder, and kissed his neck. She hugged him, and felt him clinging tightly.

"What is it that's bothered you all these years?" It was her voice, but without any of the emotion her 'shrill, disagreeable voice' usually carried. It was low, and carried a seriousness it had rarely possessed.

"Regrets…a madman's regrets. The vivid memories of my offenses, my failings, the pain of reliving them in my dreams and in quiet solitude. They creep through my mind, jumping out from behind the corners of all my thoughts. Nearly ever chain of thought leads to them. Its not that I don't consider myself forgiven…I know, I _know_ I am…but, my confidence, my confidence in the validity of my repentance…that feels like a sin. I've lived to lives to many times: saint and sinner. I've put up a front of goodness, projecting an image that I have never been, while living a life I hope to never return to. I've been lost in sin and debauchery while all around me see me as either a statue on a pedestal or an obnoxious wowser, a blue-nosed, moralistic, killjoy. And when that cover is blow, as it has been before, I am either seen as a fallen idol, something that was thought to be but never truly was, or am labelled the fraud and hypocrite I am. I think of the people I've hurt, the people I lied to and used. 'Good people are only my stepping stones'…there was a time I sang that with a devil's malice, not a penitent's remorse. I prayed, I _prayed_ to the Devil, offering him myself if I could just be granted the ability to attain my wicked goals. I thought myself a god, a being of uncanny skill and cunning, to fool my friends and family. Even once, when caught, I fooled them with my pleas of ignorance and stupidity and innocent curiosity, and swore utter penitence, and was aquitted, only to betray them again. And then, after many manoeuvres and tricks and schemes and escapes from justice, I was caught. It was out. The mask was shattered, and all saw what had been festering behind it. I was so alone. All I had was gone with the opening of a door and the revelation that I was not a good boy, that I was not a model citizen and future this and great that, that I was as bad as any of them. If there was a moment I wished to die, it was at that moment. If there was a time when I hated myself, that I hated the world and everyone in it, it was as I rode home, crying to the hateful sky. I was alone, so alone, and wanted to die. I tried."

He raised his left arm, pulling back his sleeve, revealing faint pink lines running down from his wrist.

He paused, and gave a shuddering sigh. Tears streaked down each cheek.

"Sex, drugs, porn, vandalism, all just means of an end. Lying, making excuses, escaping the consequences of my actions, doing what I had been told to avoid all my life: that was the thrill, just as much as any drug or picture or girl I made out with at a party. And I'd cry, I'd run, I'd fall to the ground and pray and swear I'd never, never, never do it again. Then, the next day, a cruel word from some stupid, airhead, cheerleader girl, or word of some nasty rumour about me, or a teacher, an evil teacher's giving me a bad mark and a put-down, and I'd be there again, with or without my so-called friends, with or without drugs, horribly alone, and just wishing I had someone like you."

He sobbed into her shoulder.

"I know…I know you hate me…I know you think I'm crazy…maybe I am. Maybe I'm crazy and you…you're just another person I unload my problems on. I'm mad, I know."

"Shh…" she set his head on her lap, and ran her fingers through his hair, "Shhh…I have been there. I have felt all those feelings. Do you think I've never cried alone, that I've never wanted to die? Do you think I have never felt all the world against me, both by my fault and not by my fault? I've been shunned and alienated, rejected and cast out by those I thought my friends. I've felt as though I knew the Ultimate Truth and that everyone I told laughed. I've been there. I remember each one, burning vivid behind my eyes…" with her last words escaped perceptible venom, as she recalled how she hated all those who had been so cruel to her. "We will always feel such things, whether through our own fault, at the hands of others, or simply when we remember them. But we needn't suffer alone. I have you…and you me. We can share our pain and cry and then lay our heads on each others' lap. Don't suffer alone. I'm here for you."

"Never leave me."

"Never."


	18. Birthdayand Milly's Continued Slide

Brian's Birthday

"Haha!"

"So I tells him 'That wasn't a woman, that was a pawn shop sign'!"

"HA!"

"Hoo…"

"Oh, look at this!" someone laughed as Marge brought in an enormous chocolate cake pierced with twenty seven blazing candles. Lisa left Brian's side briefly to dim the lights.

The partyers ceased their smoking and drinking briefly to sing 'Happy Birthday', only to recommence, albeit with cake finding a place in their mouths between puffs and gulps.

"So, what did you wish for?" Lisa asked.

"Oh, I can't tell you, or it won't come true. And I sure as heck want this one to come true." He pecked her on the cheek. She blushed and mock-slapped him.

"Okay Brian, time for the gifts."

"Okay, here you go."

"Let's see," he said, taking the card,

"'To Brian,

Happy Birthday,

Love, Jessica'. Aw, thanks. Let's get this open…and…oh, gosh…!"

"What? What is it?"

"Oingo Boingo, Dead Man's Party, the vinyl! Thank you Jess!" he laughed, standing up to hug her. "How'd you know I've been looking for this?"

"Oh, Lisa told me," she said matter-of-factly.

_Note to Self: Girls talk._

"And this one… is from Bart," Brian said, picking up a flat, circular gift with no card. He opened it: it was an unmarked DVD. "What is it?"

"Play it, man. You see."

Brian shot Lisa an apprehensive look. Once everyone was in the living room, Brian turned the TV on and put the DVD in.

"This isn't anything…risqué…is it?" Marge asked. Bart gave her a wild look that made her heart stop, then smiled and shook his head.

"Oh my God! This is that killer video we've all been hearing about! Isn't it? Isn't it!" Homer screamed.

"Dad, that's from 'The Ring'."

"How'd you know the title of the possessed tape?"

"Shh…it's starting!"

The Twentieth Century Fox Logo appeared, accompanied by appropriate booing and tossing of beer cans at the screen. The logo was replaced by another, that of Lucasfilm.

"Wait…oh no…Bart, you couldn't have!" Lisa scolded.

The film started, John Williams' famous opening title playing. 'Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith" read the opening scroll. Brian shook his head, while Bart cackled and Jessica smirked. He took the remote and skipped ahead.

"A bootleg movie…Bart, this is a new low," Marge sighed.

"Explains the lightsaber duel between George Lucas and the assassin the fans sent to kill him."

"Wait, you haven't seen the last bit yet."

It was the scene with Vader and the Emperor standing on the bridge of the Star Destroyer, watching the construction of the Death Star. Where the theatrical release would have gone to Padme's funeral and the ending, the bootleg copy cut to Darth Vader marching down a dark corridor, flanked by stormtroopers. He came to a door, and opened it with a flick of his black-gloved hand. Jar Jar Binks stood inside.

"Wha-?" he squeaked.

"You have served your purpose, Jar Jar!" Vader growled. He reached out, and Jar Jar seized his throat, as if being choked. His eyes bulged, and he fell to the floor gasping. It cut to the Emperor standing in the Senate chambers, Vader by his side.

"And so, for aiding the Separatists, and harboring their leaders from justice, have sent several legions of our newly formed, non-clone (at this he winked) stormtroopers, to capture the fugitives, thus ensuring our continued safety and security."

It cut to footage of stormtroopers slaughtering Gungans. Vader was shown giving orders to the officers.

"This is genocide, The total and deliberate annihalition of the Gungan race. There is no place for their kind in my empire!"

"Yes m'lord."

It then cut to the normal ending.

"So? Did Bart deliver or did Bart deliver?" he asked.

"Well, I must say that the few deleted scenes greatly improved the film."

"Are you kidding! They killed off Jar Jar! Why would they go and kill off one of the most beloved characters!" Homer yelled. He fell to the ground, pounding his fists against the shag carpet. "DAMN YOU, LUCAS! DAMN YOU!"

The guests laughed and returned to the dining room. Outside Millhouse watched them from the shadows. He saw Lisa standing in the door way. He stared at her longingly, at her pointy hair, her pink sweater, her blue jeans. He took another swig of Ol' Rot Gut, and ambled away.

Millhouse returned to the apartment an hour later, after several near-collisions with cars and another bottle of cheap wine.

"Well the hell were you?" Bernie Gumble asked when he came in.

"Out."

"Drinking again, eh? Well see here-I may be a hereditary alcoholic, but at least I have the decency to get drunk in a bar with friends. You just sit and drink out of a bottle, all by yourself. And you come back and puke on the couch and the floor. At least I puke outside!"

"Ah go frurck yershelfff…" Millhouse slurred, and he stumbled, catching at table for support.

"What do you bring in?"

"Aw, shutit. You make money…yer shtupid sishter bringshhh in moneee…Whada you care?" He swooned and blacked out.


	19. Marriage Class

Marriage Class

"The key to any relationship is compatibility. So I had you each write a list of all the things you two like and dislike in the categories of 'food', 'music', 'sports', 'television', 'movies', 'books', and 'hobbies'. Janine, Greg, would you like to go first?"

Lisa was staring at the wall, he chin resting on her palm. This was the second 'Marriage in the Church' class she and Brian had gone to together, and she was already bored. The young couples were the worst, eighteen and seventeen year-olds, some still in high school, some already expecting a baby, all of them lovey-dovey, pawing each other all over. She listened as the young woman read off of the items on her list, and her boyfriend continually inserted the things that he liked. _Typical…'I like swimming and walking'…'but I like football and basketball!'…'I like movies based on Nicholas Spark books, my favorite author, by the way'…'I like anything with Ranier Wolfcastle, and Owen Wilson…and I haven't read any books…that I liked'…sickening._

"Brian, Lisa?"

Lisa looked up. Brian held up the paper, and she looked at him, telling him to read.

"Okay. Lisa and I enjoy many styles of cuisine, though our shared vegetarianism limits our dining options slightly. Music: Lisa likes jazz, blues, and soul; while I like those styles as well, I am more partial to rock and pop from the sixties to the eighties. We share an interest in ethnic music, her favorite being African tribal and mine Celtic. We don't watch much television, but when we watch she likes PBS and I EWTN. We both like old movies, foreign films, and independent films. My favorite authors are C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkein, G.K. Chesterton, J.K. Rowling, P.G. Wodehouse…and Hillaire Belloc. Hers are Alexander Solzhenitzen, T.S. Elliot, Sylvia Plath, Emily Bronte, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. As for hobbies, we enjoy reading, writing, watching movies, discussing political/religious/philosophical/ issues, composing, playing music, and doing nothing.

"What is doing nothing, exactly?" the teacher asked.

"When someone asks 'What are you two doing?' and you reply 'Nothing'…and we do it."

"I see."

"A.A. Milne. One of our favorites."

"Right."

Lisa smiled at Brian.

"I think I freaked her out enough."

"You are so strange," she beamed.

"Thank you."


	20. First Day of Snow

First Day of Snow

Brian woke to the grey light of dawn. He rolled over in his bed, pulling the sheets and covers with him. He looked out the window. It was frosted with grey fug. He set his feet on the floor, cringing slightly at the coldness of it, and walked over to the window. He wiped a pane clear, and saw that the hillside was covered with snow. Pure, white, snow.

Brian dress quickly and rushed outside. He laughed and giggled like a child, rolling and jumping in the white gold, diamonds. He felt alone and free, in a new creation of white and silence.

Brian rushed to take care of the chickens. He started the diesel generator that powered the heat lamps in the coops, and mixed in some corn. _Cracked corn makes heat. Keeps them warm_, he remembered an old man saying to him in the feed store. He went to groom and feed the horses, filling their troughs with extra hay and warm water. He set their blankets over their broad backs, caressing and kissing their velvety heads.

Lisa was dreaming. _Children…children with bright eyes and fat, pink cheeks. Chubby knees…clumsy steps holding on to my hand. _She opened her eyes. The day was too dim to be real. She seemed to have moved effortlessly from blurry sunlight to blurry winter dawn. She sat up, and draped the rode she had set on the headboard over her shoulders. She went over to the window. Everything was white and still, a single moment held in eternity. Lisa was jolted from her woolgathering by a splat against the window. White slush suddenly obscured her perfect world. She opened the window, leaning out into the cold. She was vaguely aware of her body, and how her breasts were threatening to slip out from the top of her nightgown.

"Oi!" someone called from the street below. She looked and saw Brian, waving a red-gloved hand. Lisa smiled and laughed. "Come on down! Its beautiful!"

"Okay!" she called. She rushed and dressed, cursing herself for not having a pair of snowpants. _Oh well, its not that deep. Plus, they make my butt look big._ She slipped on her favourite pair of jeans and a sweater. She grabbed her hat and scarf, seized her keys from the ring, and rushed out the door, only to dash back in momentarily to grab her jacket.

They walked together, white clouds of smoke trailing behind them. They went to the park and sat on a cold, wet bench, and watched the children enjoy their brief liberation from the drudgery of school. Lisa felt a pang of sadness.

"To think…I, of all people, hated school."

"I though you loved it."

She smiled, then took her hands from her pockets and breathed on them, rubbing them together for heat.

"I loved the learning. I hated the mob."

" 'Man can relate to one another in two ways: as an organized religious or social community, or as a mob'." He frowned. "Public school produces the worst type of mob: a mob of children, given to wickedness and passion and the utmost of heartlessness."

"Nice. I never knew you liked A. Huxley enough to quote him."

"Paraphrase, really. I couldn't remember the actual quote. Just like you couldn't remember that his first name is 'Aldous'."

Lisa chuckled, then looked down at her feet.

"I don't think any less of you for not knowing that."

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

She looked off at the children playing in the snow.

"Children."

The statement stunned Brian. He was all at once filled with joy and dread, something of the same terror Lisa had felt. _Producing something of me but not me. A child. My Child._ _Our Child._ He looked at Lisa, his eyes anxious but determined. She smiled and raised one eyebrow, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

They picked Maggie up from snowboarding with her friends on the other side of Mt. Springfield, then took Eric home from the DeGeorge's.

"Oh, Lisa! Nice to see you! Hiya, Brian!" Marge greeted.

"Hi mom."

"Mrs. Simpson."

"Oh, Brian, please."

They stepped inside. Eric dashed off to his room to work on a fanfic he was writing. Maggie slouched off to the kitchen.

"So, what are you guys doing for dinner?" Marge asked.

"Oh, I dunno."

"Well, how about staying? Homie'll be home soon and I made meatloaf."

"Mmm…meatloaf…I mean, um, no thank you," Brian covered, having elicited an angry murmur from Lisa.

"Oh, and I have uh…mashed potatoes, and asparagus, and brocolli, and cauliflower…and…salt and pepper…oh, please stay!"

"Okay!" Lisa said.

"Whoo…hoo!" Brian said, realising that Lisa was still acting perturbed.

"Just for that, no meatloaf."

"D'oh!"

"And get your own catchphrase!"

"Sigh…"

Maggie re-entered the living room, a bag of chips in one hand, a can of soda in the other. She plopped down on the couch, and flipped on the TV.

Homer came home from work and they sat and ate dinner. They talked about work, and how Homer should retire, having worked for twenty five years at that plant.

"Yeah, but it hasn't been a steady twnty-five. I've been an astronaut, a body guard, a manager, a Kwik-E-Mart clerk, a private security guy, a trucker, a vigilante, a oil field worker, a missionary…"

"This could take a while," Maggie groaned.

Brian jerked slightly, feeling something on his leg. He noticed that Lisa had set her hand on his thigh. The simple act set his mind whirring. _My, she's frisky today. What's gotten into her. I love. Yes, I do want her. No, were not married. Two more months. 'If not now…then when?'_

Brian drove Lisa back to her apartment. They sat in silence for a moment. Brian seemed to be meditating whether or not he should put the car in 'park'.

"Are you coming in?" Lisa asked. Brian let out a shuddering sigh.

"Okay."

They walked up to the room. Lisa unlocked the door, then stepped away from it. Brian knew it was his last chance. But…a part of him knew he wanted to. He knew it was a more understandable failing, in the end. He opened the door, then looked at Lisa. She had begun to feel anxious as well.

"We can't stop it now, Lisa." He said, smiling comfortingly. She dashed through the door, and he after her. He closed the door and locked it. He turned, and was caught full-on by her kiss. She set her head on his shoulder. She was trembling. He set his hand on her cheek, and lifted her head. They gazed into each other's eyes for the longest time. He took her hand, and she led him to the bedroom.

"_No words to say,_

_no words to convey,_

_this feeling inside, I have for you._

_Deep in my heart,_

_Safe from the gods_

_Of intellect and reason._

_Leaving me at a loss,_

_For words to express my feeling._

_Deep in my heart._

_Deep in my heart…_

_Look at me losing control, whoa-whoa._

_Thinking I had it all, oh-oh._

_With the feelings this strong,_

_I'm no longer the master of my emotions._

_No words to say,_

_No words to convey,_

_This feeling inside, I have for you._

_Deep in my heart._

_Safe from the gods _

_Of intellect and reason._

_Leaving me at a loss,_

_For words to express my feelings._

_Deep in my heart._

_Deep in my heart._

_Look at me losing control, whoa-oh._

_Thinking I had it all, oh-oh._

_With the feelings this strong,_

_I'm no longer the master of my emotions._

_No words to say,_

_No words to convey,_

_This feeling inside, I have…for you._

_­_

-Tracy Chapman, "For You"


	21. Moonlight

Moonlight

Lisa woke with a start. _Something's wrong…but what?_ she thought as she lie in the silent stillness. Slowly, she realised that she was naked. _Naked…why?…_

She noticed a slight whistle, a gentle, sighing breath. _Brian…oh, Brian_. She rolled over, and kissed his forehead. His eyes rolled under their lids. She set her head on his chest, and sighed. She smiled, a glad, sad, tired smile. She kissed him once more, then got out of bed. She draped a nightgown around herself, and opened the shades.

The moon was full. It loomed near the horizon, opalescent white. Lisa turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She shimmied, watching the shadows and silvery light as they played on her skin. She looked up at the moon. She smiled.

("Maria, Instrumental")

She danced on the roof, her heart bursting with laughter. She stepped and spun, her skin tight and shivering in the cold. She rested against the wall, the thin gossamer gown flowing down and across from one shoulder. The brilliant moon reflected in her eyes.


	22. Day Before, and Apprehension

Day Before

It was a sunny February day. Spring, not due for more than a month, seemed to be giving a preview of what she had planned. The non-migratory birds of Springfield were singing in the just-budding trees.

Guests had begun to arrive: Joe Bergstrum, Thelonius, the kids from the beech, the Callahans, Brian's college friends and their families, and assorted miscreants from the music industry. There were hotel rooms, blank places of no attachment, where they threw their possessions down for the day and then set off once more.

The rehersal was short and simple. Brian and Bart, his best man, walked down the isle, then the bridesmaids, then Lisa and Homer. The marriage vows were breezed through. At the actual wedding, the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist would be performed as well, but they didn't require the couple's memorization and practice. After the rehearsal, the families and their friends went to eat at Luigi's. Homer took the men to Moe's for a few drinks afterwards.

Brian sat at the bar, eyes travelling distractedly from the television screen to a spot above Homer's bald cue ball head. He hefted his tankard and took a small, obliging sip. He truly hated Duff, but, as it was all Moe had, save the brine from the pickled eggs, he had ordered one to be social.

"You know Homer, I like this place," he half-lied. He truly hated Moe's Tavern; it was, as even Moe had admitted, a crap-hole. The _people_ in it, however, made it pleasant. There was a tragic nobility, a heart-breaking sadness to the poor blue-collar schmoes who trudged down to Moe's to drown their woes in biting poison. "The dankness somehow grows on you after a while."

"You know, Brian, I have something for you," Homer said, producing a small black box from his pocket.

"Really?"

"My father gave me these on the day I married Marge. They brought me good luck. I couldn't have asked for a better marriage. We don't have many traditions in our family, but I'd be happy if you kept this one alive."

"I'd be happy-" he began. Homer opened the box, revealing matching bride and groom pig plastic cufflinks, "To…wear those…things."

"Aww," Homer said, pulling Brian into a one-sided hug.

That night, Brian sat up late. Try as he might, and as tired as he felt, sleep could not find him. _To think…Lisa will be with me from now on…by my side_. How many thoughts does a man think between dusk and dawn on the night of his marriage? Brian sat down on his bed, and took out a mother-of-pearl pipe that he'd been given that Christmas. He pinched some tobacco in, then lit it, and puffed on it, deep in thought. One thought that kept coming to mind was children. _Children! Bart and Jessica's first is three months along now…for all I know…no, I know that one time wasn't it. But still, tomorrow night…_ His thoughts of burdens and responsibilities in the distant future were eclipsed by a promise in the near future. He had 'slipped up' but once with Lisa, but he had enjoyed their love immensely, and knew that she had as well. _But then…our love has been so pure before this. It was everything but sex. What was it Victorians strived for? To fall in love without sex, whereas modern man aims for sex without love or commitment. Will this ruin it? Will it stop being long talks, intellectual musings? Will we be just like stupid, horny teenagers?_

Sometime after two a.m., Brian dozed off. He woke to the sound of the morning train. He sighed, and crossed himself, and prayed for the strength to face the day.


	23. Epiphany

The Epiphany, _or_ How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Not Believe Gypsy Fortune Tellers

Marge's heart swelled with a burning, bittersweet joy.

"I can't believe it. My baby girl's wedding day!"

"Mom, I feel kinda funny wearing white. I mean…

"Oh Millhouse doesn't count!" Marge interrupted, and then giggled.

"Yeah, heh heh," Lisa said, forcing a smile. _"Millhouse doesn't count"…oh no! Please, God, no!_ "Okay…let's see…I've got something old, that's my pearl necklace; something new, that's the wedding dress; something borrowed, that's this antique brooch from Brian's mother; now I just need something blue."

Marge looked up at her enormous bouffant. She grabbed a pair of scissors from the nearby armoire and cut a long strand of wavy blue hair. She handed it to her daughter.

"Oh, thanks mom," she said, hugging her. Marge wiped a tear from her cheek and went to see if Maggie and Eric were ready yet.

Lisa sank to her knees. _Its just like she said…_

"_Isn't there any way to stop this now that I know what will happen?"_

"_No, but just try and act surprised when it does."_

But everthing has been so different. I didn't go to school back east, I didn't meet Brian until my senior year, he likes my family…But then, why is this all happening exactly like the vision?

Eric walked by, and saw Lisa on the floor, crying.

"Lisa? Lisa…what's wrong?"

Lisa looked up. Eric was on his knees next to her. He set his hand on her shoulder. She smiled and sat up, wiping the tears away with her gloved hands. She threw her arms around Eric.

"Nothing, nothing at all!"

"MMMfff!"

"Sorry…sorry. Just…nervous, you know. Too much excitement. I'm okay."

They stood up. Eric walked to the door, gave her a concerned look, then headed downstairs.

_Eric's another difference. He wasn't in the vision at all…if she really could look into the future, she'd have seen him!_ And yet her fears were not silenced.

The wedding was to be held in St. George's Cathedral of the Downtown (Bishop does not know combination to safe). Guest came from Springfield and from every corner of the continent: Distant relatives from Marge's side, Homer's rarely-seen halfbrother Herb, and a distant relative who ran a small shrimp business in Alabama.

Patty and Selma entered the Cathedral, with Artie Ziff ambling along on Selma's arm. The threesome took their seats in the pews on the right side, Lisa's. Patty noticed Edna Krabbappel seated behind them.

"Hey Krabbappel! You get in the way of the bouquet, and I'll ram that sunhat down yer neck!"

Lisa checked her mascara in the mirror. It was minutes before the wedding was to start, and she was already shaking with excitement.

"Ooh la la!" Homer said, leaning in to look.

"Hi Dad!" Lisa said as he stepped in. He took her hands, looking at her with pride and disbelief.

"My little Lisa, Lisa Simpson. You know, I've always felt that you were the best thing my name ever got attached to. Ever since the day you learned to pin your own diapers you've been smarter than me. You taught me how to understand my own wife better and be a better person. But you're also my daughter, and I don't think anyone could've-"

"Dad, you're rambling!"

"See! You're still helping me."

Lisa smiled. Her eyes spied the cufflinks her father wore.

"Dad…didn't you give those to Brian to wear?"

"Oh, yeah, well, I found them on the dresser and…I guess they weren't his cup of tea."

Lisa didn't even reply. She ripped them off his jacket and rushed to find Brian. She dashed about, her dress trailing behind her. She found him in the restroom, washing his hands.

"Lisa! What are you-!"

She shoved the cufflinks in his face.

"Oh, those! I'm so sorry, I must have forgotten them in all the rush!"

He took them and put them on his tux. Lisa stared at him, mouth agape.

"Something wrong, babe?"

"You mean…you want to wear them?"

"Well, they do clash a bit with my buttons, but hey, I'm part of the family now, so if its tradition, who am I to judge? Lisa?"

He looked around. Lisa was nowhere to be seen. He took a step forward, and immediately retracted his foot. Lisa had fainted. Brian immediately propped her up. He patted her on the cheek, then, getting no response, felt for a pulse. It was strong, though rapid. He held his ear to her chest to hear for breathing. He felt Lisa set her hand on his cheek.

"Lisa! You scared me there. I thought the I was going to lose you!"

A tear ran down Lisa's cheek.

"I thought I was going to lose you! Oh Brian, I love you!"

"Me too. We should get married."

Lisa laughed.

They entered the church together. The guests were all standing, and Fr. Sean had just reached the altar with the procession. They stood, a bit embarrassed, waiting for the priest and the altar boys to genuflect and prepare the altar. Brian looked at Lisa for assurance. Then started to walk down the aisle. Bart saw him, rushed from the pew, then stopped, embarrassed, and genuflected hastily, then ran over and started walking alongside him.

"Oh God, my stomach's all in knots. I think I'm going to throw up!" Brian whispered to Bart.

"You should have had a drink or so, steady the old nerves, man."

"Your dad had already drank _everything_. I'm amazed he's not passed out in the car."

"That'd be all the coffee."

"I see."

They stopped in front of the altar. Brian nodded to the old organist in the choir loft. She acknowledged, then began to play 'Here Comes the Bride'.

'_Here comes the bride, _

_all fat and wide!_

_See how she wa-addles_

_From side-to-side!'_

'_Here comes the groom,_

_Skinny as a broom,_

_He'd waddle too if he had any room!_' " Bart sang just loudly enough for Brian to hear. Brian smiled, then elbowed the best man in the ribs. Lisa reached the altar, veil over her face. Lisa smiled, her cheeks flaming. She turned and gave Jessica, who had walked with her as maid-of-honour, big, tearful hug. Brian took her hand in his. Lisa set her other hand over his. The knelt down together before the altar.

It came time for the wedding vows.

"Now," Fr. Sean said, "This is the point where you'd expect me to say 'If there is anyone here who knows why these two should not be joined in marriage, speak now, or forever hold your peace', but this is a Catholic wedding, and, in addition to having been given six months to decide, and having to take numerous marriage classes, it is assumed that neither is still married to anyone, or is in anyway unprepared. So, Brian Aug-"

"NOOOOOOOO!" came a scream from the back. Everyone looked up. Millhouse was in the choir loft, his clothes tattered, tears running down his cheeks.

"Lisa! Lisa! Lis-aaaaaah!" he screamed as he fell from the choir loft-there was no glass, as he learned. He rose to his feet, groaning. He shook himself off, and then stormed down the aisle, screaming 'I object!'

"Bloody Hell! I just finished explaining that!" Fr. Sean swore.

"Lisa! Please! Won't you change your mind?"

Lisa was too upset to respond. She began shaking, and hyperventilating.

"Well…" Brian said, sizing up his tipsy adversary, "I thought we were serving alchohol after the wedding." There were a few scattered, feeble chuckles.

"Lisa! Please! I love you! More than this idiot could! Please, I-!" But he wasn't allowed to finish. Lisa slapped him across the face.

"You…selfish…bastard! This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and here yo…! GAAAH! I never loved you! Got it? You were a friend once, but you were just so clingy, and annoying, and couldn't…Take…A…HINT! Go away!"

Millhouse stood there, immobilized with grief. Fat Tony, who was sitting in the front pew, snapped his fingers. Legs and Louie stood. Legs straightened his tie, and Louie cracked his knuckles. They left the pew, Louie drawing his blackjack. He clubbed Millhouse, then he and Legs drug him out. The re-entered a few minutes later. Louie came in, popped his knuckles, then his neck, followed by Legs, who folded up his kerchief and set it in his pocket, straightened his tie, then dipped his fingertips in the Holy Water, blessed himself, and sat down.

The remainder of the Mass went on without incident. Brian and Lisa said 'I do', and everyone applauded. After the marriage rites came the Liturgy of the Eucharist, and Communion. Maggie sang 'Panem Angelicum' during the communion.

After the Mass was ended, the newlyweds did their standard run to the limo, thronged with rice-throwing friends and family. Brian helped Lisa into the car, waved to the crowd, then hopped in.

Brian and Lisa sat for a while, smiling, chuckling here and there. Finally, Brian broke the increasingly awkward silence.

"Well, we did it."


	24. Millie's Death

Bottle To His Head…

Millhouse's world was all a groggy blur. His head ached. His stomach felt a sickening, boiling stew. His head was throbbing with pain, pulsing between each step, making walking all the more difficult. His knees buckled. He fell on the bed.

Blind with pain and drunkenness, he felt for a bottle. He felt the cold, smooth glass. He brought the bottle to his mouth. After several tries, he realized that the cap was still on; after a few more, he finally decided to unscrew the lid. He was too numb to feel whether or not the aluminium lid was still on, but knew it, in his poisoned mind. He gulped, now too numb to feel the burn of the whiskey.

He drained the bottle. He tossed it aside. Didn't hear it shatter…didn't care. He crawled, swaying, trembling, along the bed. He reached out, waving his arm through black space. It hit something hard. He felt along it. His fingers grasped something cold, metal. He pulled it in close. He saw her smiling face. His tears blurred his vision even more. Darkness crept in along the edges of his sight. It all went black.

His last thoughts were of Lisa.


	25. We Close Our Eyes

Funeral For A Friend

"Millhouse never had an easy life. His family life was tumultuous. His parents were silently resentful to each other at best, and near the point of killing each other at worst. They divorced when he was ten. His mother left town a few months later, taking Millhouse with her. His father sued for custody, and won it. Millhouse lost his father again when he was falsely of kidnapping. He lived with his Grandmother for the next four years, until she died of a stroke. He was shuffled around the foster care system for several months, until the Simpson family managed to adopt him."

"Millhouse went on to Springfield state. He worked his way through university, and later obtained a management position at the Springfield Power Plant. He worked there for a year and a half, before he was summarily sacked. And now, five months later, here he lies."

"Millhouse was neither extraordinarily intelligent nor athletic. He was not much on looks, and had few friends. His dearest friend was, and is still, Bart Simpson. Bart always looked out for Millhouse, protected him from bullies, cheered him up when he was down. Bart was always there for his troubled friend."

"What I knew of Millhouse I learned only as one does when he enters a family and learns about the people in it. Millhouse was a part of the Simpson family, and childhood friend of the four children, beloved by the Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, and looked up to as an older brother by Maggie and Eric."

"Millhouse had a hard life. God knows this. And I'm sure that He will take that into account. Rest in Peace."

Brian went back to the pews. He tried not to look at the tear-lined faces. The sadness and guilt that gleamed in their eyes matched what he felt throbbing in his heart. He managed to hold back the tears. Years of being told that he could not cry kept the tears back. Lisa squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

The organist began to play. The swelling, bubbling chains of notes rose like waves in Lisa's heart. Maggie's clear, celestial voice rose up.

"_Ave Maria…"_

Drum.

"_Maiden mild…"_

Drum.

"_O listen to a maiden's prayer,_

_For thou can see the wound"_

Drum.

"_Tis thou, 'tis thou can save me,_

_In this despair."_

Drum.

Bagpipes.

" _O Maiden, see a maiden's sorrow!"_

The blaring, rattling bagpipes blended with Maggie's voice, and overtook it. The rain fell-scant, disheartening specks, drying rds. The air was heavy, the pregnant clouds rumbling. Bart watched as they lowered the casket.

Drum.

Willie and his cousin Billy stood by the grave, in somber Scottish finery, their pipes shrieking to the wuthering skies. Ian, Willie's son, beat the drum.

Drum.

Bart approached the grave. _Millhouse…down there…in the dark…_Jessica threw a single rose into the grave. Marge stepped forward, and threw hers. Bart looked at his rose. _Red, red like blood. Soft and dark. Fragile as innocence…innocence_… He cast it down into the earth.

Slowly, the guests and mourners dispersed. The only one remaining was Lisa.

"Millhouse…forgive me. I did love you. I hope you know that. I still love you…I just…my love was never impure. You never understood that. My love was more than petty infatuation, or obsession. It was always pure, Millhouse. I never wanted you romantically, because I always thought of you as a _person_. I only…I wish you could have realised that."

She looked down at the black coffin, scattered with red rose. A shower of earth fell onto it. Billy had begun to bury it. The rain began to fall with great force. Lisa looked heavenwards, and sighed. She turned and went to the car, where Brian stood waiting.

We'll always have each other. That's all we can ever truly be; no one is complete in this life.

"Millhouse wanted only to be loved, Lisa, and you gave him what love you could, we all did. He failed in that he denied himself the love only he could deny, and in his failure to accept love where he could find it, rare thing it is."

"He wanted love on his own terms."

"Love is never on _our_ terms. Love on your own terms is no love."

The mourners gathered at the Simpson's home after the funeral. Grief, and guilt, kept them isolated, even in each other's company. 'Weird Al', decided to lighten the mood with some music. He picked up his accordion, and began to play. Brian recognized the tune.

"Duh duh-duh, duh-duhduhduh dum-dum, duh duh-duh duhdum…"

"We close our eyes…" Danny Elfman half-sang, recognizing his song.

"We close our eyes and dream,

And the world has turned around again.

Lisa grabbed her saxophone. and started to play as Elfman launched into the first verse.

"When everybody is running in the big race and

Havin' a good time,

The mighty cast a shadow.

Who am I?"

Brian joined him as Steve flipped the cover off of the piano and Burke found Maggie's drum set.

"I looked Death in the face last night;

I saw him in a mirror,

And he simply smiled."

"He told me not to worry," Maggie sang.

"He told me just to take my time." They all sang. Bart and Brian grabbed their guitars, and found a few conveniently-placed 'Kontryvanz' brand amps.

"We close our eyes,

And the world had turned around again.

We close our eyes and dream,

And another year has come and gone.

We close our eyes,

And the world has turned around again,

We close our eyes and dream!"

"And if you come to me,

And if you touch my hand,

I might just slip away,

I might just dissapear.

Who am I?"

Homer found his old xylomaphone and adding a few pinging notes.

"And if you think I'm worth it,

And if you think its not too late,

We might start falling-" Brian and Danny sang.

"If we don't try too hard-!" Brian added.

"We might start falling in love!"

"We close our eyes,

And the world had turned around again.

We close our eyes and dream,

And another year has come and gone.

We close our eyes,

And the world has turned around again,

We close our eyes and dream!"

Al rose to his feet and played a solo on his accordion, then Lisa blared a solo on her sax.

"We're on the healin pa-ath…

On a roller-coaster ride, that can never turn back

And if you love me,

And if we really try,

Make the seconds count,

And we can clo-ose our eyes!"

"We close our eyes,

And the world has turned around again.

We close our eyes and dream,

And another year has come and gone.

We close our eyes close our eyes,

And the world has turned around again.

We close our eye-heyes…and the world has turned around again…"

Copyright 2005 Fionn Whelan, all rights resereved. An original fan fiction published on for artistic purpose only. All characters herein are property of their original creators, and subject to due protection under the law. Songs used herein are the property of their artists (Alice Cooper, Oingo Boingo/Danny Elfman, Elton John, Jackson Browne, Tracy Chapman, et al) used without permission. Personalities of real persons used in this work were used with utmost admiration and respect, unless they were mocked for comic or satirical reasons.


End file.
